


What People Do

by ensorcel



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Lawyer Andy, Ten Years Later, lawyer AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:35:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23997613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ensorcel/pseuds/ensorcel
Summary: It's been ten years since Andy's worked atRunwayand she's now a successful lawyer in Los Angeles. So, imagine her surprise when Miranda Priestly walks through her office doors.A look at choice, life, and love.
Relationships: Miranda Priestly & Andrea Sachs, Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs
Comments: 260
Kudos: 775
Collections: 4 stars





	1. feels just like the movies

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All rights reserved to Twentieth Century Fox and Laura Weisberger. Any characters recognized do not belong to me. Also, I am absolutely _not_ a lawyer, so please forgive me for any mistakes about the legal system!
> 
> Many thanks to zigostia for beta-ing this.

_"That is what we do. That is what people do. They stay alive for each other."_ —Micheal Cunningham, _The Hours_

* * *

_June 28, 2016._

Andy stared at a law review of California’s updates to the criminal justice system, forcing herself to even, just a little, process what the hell she was reading. The sun shone brightly through her office on the twenty-eighth floor, as the bustling streets of L.A. rumbled below. Sighing, she pulled up the transcript of yesterday’s deposition, trying to comb through the text. 

God. Was it too early for a drink? She shrugged her blazer off, settling it on her chair as she refilled her cup of coffee. Hopefully this would stay out of court, she mused, as she reviewed her client’s performance. (They needed to spend more time on witness prep, that was for sure.) 

Sipping her coffee, she skimmed through the deposition, mainly to refresh herself on what had happened yesterday. (And to avoid the law review, mostly. This was why she stayed away from academia—they would never, ever be concise. Or on time, either.) 

“Ms Sachs, your eleven o’clock is here,” her assistant called through the intercom. 

Absentmindedly, she replied, “Thank you, Antia, send them in.” 

Andy pulled out the manila folder underneath the stack of papers on her left—more depo transcripts—and quickly read the resume. 

Ah. Another Stanford student. Well, that was her just about seven years ago, so Andy sat back as her door opened. 

A young girl, couldn’t be older than twenty-four—and probably twenty-two, from the looks of her resume—shyly walked in, dressed professionally but just… slightly lacking. She looked familiar. The blazer didn’t fit quite right, Andy noticed. Well, couldn’t just judge on that, obviously. 

“Hi, my name is Andy Sachs and I’ll be interviewing you for the summer internship position at _Lockhart & Gardner, _” Andy quickly said, gesturing for the girl to have a seat. She had a nice haircut, a smart bob cut off right at the shoulders. (Andy swore she’s seen her somewhere.)

“Thank you for calling me in, I’m Cassidy Priestly,” the girl introduced. 

Wait. 

What—

Priestly? It couldn’t be. It was a common last name, right?

“Thanks for coming in, Cassidy,” Andy rushed out, quickly gathering herself. Her poker face better not be failing her now. Andy reexamined the resume before her, internally slapping herself for completely missing the name at the top. 

“It’s an honour— _Lockhart & Gardner _ is one of the top firms in the country,” Cassidy gushed. 

“Priestly, huh? Any relation to the editor?” Andy casually asked. She needed to check. Besides, there was no way. What the hell would Miranda Priestly’s daughter be doing in California, anyways?

Cassidy blushed, sitting up straighter in her chair, nervously tucking her hair behind her ears. “Actually, um, she’s my mother.” 

Well. 

Fuck. Did this count as a conflict of interest? (If a conflict of interest could last ten years, maybe.) 

It didn’t seem that Cassidy remembered her, though, so it would be fine. (If Andy was super worried she’d just pass Cassidy’s application to another partner to review.) 

“Well, say hello from the partners—we hope our New York business is doing well for her,” Andy said, pulling up interview questions on her laptop. 

Well. Cassidy Priestly in her office. 

The traffic outside was louder. 

* * *

“Andy? Diane’s asking for you in her office,” Antia called from her doorway, catching Andy in the middle of furiously typing up a brief. 

“Oh yes, of course, thank you,” she said distractedly, finishing up her sentence before emailing it off to the associates on the case. “Tell her I’ll be right there.” 

Saving everything quickly, she readjusted her blazer and headed down the hallway. Hopefully Diane was just calling her for an update—her plate was already very full with her clientele. Greeting Diane’s assistant, she was ushered through the door, where Will and another guest—presumably a client—were sitting across from Diane. 

“Ah, Andy,” Diane said, getting up and pulling a chair up for her. “Please meet Miranda Priestly, the Editor-in-Chief at _Runway_ and one of our very best clients.” 

What—

(She should’ve known better that if one Priestly shows up, the rest will too.) 

“Miranda, Andy is a partner and one of our top litigators at _Lockhart & Gardner,_” Diane continued. “She specialises in criminal law but is also excellent in family law.” 

Barely half of Diane’s words registered with Andy as she watched the woman across from her. Hell, did she not age? It had been ten years, for fuck’s sake! Maybe she really did drink the blood of virgins. God. 

“Miranda?” Andy asked, reaching out to shake Miranda’s hand. 

“Do you two know each other?” Diane quipped. 

“Uh, yes—” 

“Andrea worked for me, a long time ago,” Miranda smoothly offered. 

“Andy? Worked at _Runway_?” Will laughed, as Diane glared at him. “Our Andy. At _Runway_?” 

“Well, I had to pay the bills right out of college,” Andy jabbed back, sitting down. “But yes. Miranda’s assistant.” 

Will had to keep himself from bursting out into a fit and Andy could feel Diane’s glare on him, even if it wasn’t directed at her. 

“What brings you to _Lockhart & Gardner_, Miranda?” Andy asked, gracefully crossing her legs. God. The woman really didn’t age. Her hair even was the same. (That blazer fit her really well.) 

“I was very interested in meeting the people to whom my millions of dollars were going to,” Miranda answered, cordially. Barely. “And it seems it has gone to good use.” 

“Diane, you mentioned family law?”

“Yes, Miranda is here seeking a divorce and I mentioned that we have a very good family law department here,” Diane replied. Andy didn’t take her eyes off Miranda. (Third or fourth divorce? Last she’d seen, Miranda was still married to Stephen.) 

“Wouldn’t you rather David Lee for that?” Andy asked, confused. “I mean, I’m good, but family law is really his area.” 

“Miranda requested you,” Diane said. Huh? What? Miranda requested her? How the fuck did Miranda even know she worked here? 

“Ah, I see,” Andy replied, diplomatically. She turned to Miranda. “Would you mind giving us a minute?” 

Miranda looked surprised but nodded. “Of course, I’ll be just outside.” 

The minute the door closed Andy whipped around. 

“Am I being put onto her case? I haven’t done a divorce in a while,” she said. Will nodded. 

“You’ll close up your Wellings case and then we’ll fly you out to the New York branch,” Diane said. “You’ll see that it’s a great opportunity and we need to keep this client happy.” 

Andy sighed. Of course. Miranda and _Runway_ brought in at least eighty-seven million each year for the firm. 

“Of course, of course. When do I leave?” 

“Two weeks.” Will grinned. “Your old boss, huh?” 

Yup. Her old boss.

“I don’t need to emphasize the importance of this, Andy,” Diane warned. 

“I understand. It’ll be a big divorce.” The two partners nodded and Andy headed out, finding Miranda waiting by the door.

“Well. I’m your attorney,” Andy announced, holding out her hand. Miranda looked up from her phone. Andy thought she saw her lips turn up to a smile, just a little. “My office is this way,” she led. 

“You’ve made quite a name for yourself, haven’t you, Andrea Sachs?” Miranda quipped, following her down the hall. 

“Well, Runway sure taught me a lot,” she replied. “Maybe even more so than law school.”

“Thirty-six and partner, you’ve done well.” Was that a… compliment? From Miranda? Miranda Priestly? Andy had to keep her eyes from bulging out of her skull. 

“Well enough to land a client whose company brings us eighty-seven million in billable hours?” 

Miranda chuckled, the twinkling sound filling Andy’s office. “Yes, well enough for that.” 

“Please, have a seat,” Andy said, pulling out a chair. “You know, your daughter came in for an interview a few days ago. I thought I had been sorely mistaken—no way it was Cassidy Priestly.” 

Miranda tilted her head. “Cassidy? I hadn’t known she interviewed here.” 

“Really?” 

“I don’t monitor everything in my daughter’s lives, Andrea, as much as you may think I do,” Miranda replied, pulling out a folder from her bag. 

“I’m going to have to hand her application to another partner now, since I’ve got a conflict of interest,” Andy joked, gesturing at Miranda. “So. Divorce? Why do you want me?” 

“I see the habit of underestimating yourself hasn’t gone away, even after ten years,” Miranda pointed out. Andy chuckled. 

“No, really. Since you somehow found out that I work here you must also know that David Lee is one of the best divorce attorneys this country’s got. And add on the fact that I’m much more familiar with Californian law than I am New York.” 

Miranda looked at her inquisitively.

“I’ve heard things about you, Andrea. You’re good,” Miranda replied, after a beat. Andy raised an eyebrow. 

“Surely you have a better answer than that?”

Miranda ignored her question and handed over the folder she had pulled out earlier. 

“These are Stephen’s original divorce papers and a copy of our prenup,” Miranda explained. (Andy remembered that stack well. She also remembered Paris and a bare-faced Miranda but she wasn’t going to admit that to herself, now of all times especially.) 

“Have you been separated for a year?” Andy asked, trying to remember everything she’d learnt about New York divorce laws while skimming through Miranda’s documents. She’d have to read up on those. 

“No, just about nine months.” 

“Mm, okay, that’s plenty of time for us to get our ducks in a row then. I’m going to have someone review your prenup, make sure that everything is where it should be. Did _Lockhart & Gardner _ draw this up?” she asked, holding up the pre-nup. 

“Yes, I had Diane draw it up for me.” 

“Okay, good. Diane is thorough, so it should be fine. I’ll need access to your financials as well and the partners have assigned me to the New York branch for the rest of the divorce proceedings,” Andy explained, already reading through the documents. 

“I’ll send them to your office,” Miranda replied, gathering her things. 

“This was one billable hour, by the way,” Andy said, her tone joking. (Though she really wasn’t.) 

“As I’d expected. Anything else you need from me?” 

“No, not as of right now. Here’s my card if you need anything,” Andy said, grabbing from her stack of business cards, scribbling her cell number on the back. “And here’s my personal if you ever need me urgently. I’m usually here anyways.” 

“Thank you,” Miranda said, turning to go. 

“And Miranda?” The woman looked back, card still in hand. 

“It was good to see you.” 

Miranda smiled, or at least Andy thought she did. (She’s a little rusty on the essence of Miranda Priestly, nowadays. Well. She’d have plenty of time to brush up.) 

“It was good to see you, too.”

> _“Something in it moves me,_
> 
> _(Don’t take it back now)_
> 
> _Feels just like the movies.”_ —Nightly _,_ "The Movies"


	2. i'd do it all over again

Andy landed at J.F.K. in New York, grabbed her luggage and looked for a sign with  _ Lockhart & Gardner _ : Andrea Sachs on it. True to the partners’ word, there was a young man with a suitably bored expression, staring down at his phone. 

“Hi, Andy Sachs,” she said, introducing herself. The young man, presumably an assistant or paralegal, glanced up. 

“Oh, Ms Sachs, thank you so much for coming. This way, please,” he said, leading the way out of the airport and to a very sleek, clearly fancy car. Man. She really did underestimate the New York  _ Lockhart & Gardner _ branch. (Though, of course, it never really left her mind that she was somehow a partner at one of the top firms in America. Well. Miranda Priestly never expected anything but the best, didn’t she?) 

“Thank you,” she said, as the man grabbed her luggage and opened the car door. She slid through, heavily reminded of her days at  _ Runway _ , frantically running to the other side of the car as to avoid being left behind—with Miranda Priestly, you never really knew. 

“Mr. Cain thanks you for joining us out here at the New York branch,” the assistant began, clutching his phone. Andy nearly chuckled. If she didn’t know that feeling. “You’ve also been given the caseload for all of  _ Runway _ , along with a team of lawyers. Mr. Cain will give you further information.” 

Andy nearly balked. Will and Diane had left this little tidbit of information out. Though, she wasn’t completely surprised. She hadn’t expected to just have to deal with a divorce case—no matter how big—in New York. 

“Thank you,” she replied, smoothing her skirt. Once back into the fray. New York, once again. 

* * *

Andy had been shown her new office for the time being—it seemed that she had done a little bit of an exchange program of sorts, as the partner’s office she had borrowed was currently in L.A. Strange almost, to be this high up, she mused, as she looked out of her window. The bustling streets of New York were almost the same as back in California. Just almost. 

“Janice!” she called into the intercom, sorting through the papers on her desk. 

“Yes, Ms Sachs?” 

“Please, just Andy is fine, and can you ask when Mr. Cain has his next free minute? I need to speak to him real quick,” she requested, filing through the  _ Runway _ caseload. There was a fuckton of paperwork. 

“Of course, Andy.” 

Andy hummed as she looked at her workload for the week, sifting through box after box. 

“Mr. Cain is ready for you in his office,” Janice called. 

“Thank you!” 

Andy headed down the partners’ floor, quickly glancing at the offices. Might as well try to get to know some people if she was going to be here for a couple weeks. 

“Mr. Cain?” 

“Ah, Ms Sachs! Come in,” Mr. Cain welcomed, getting up. “Pleasure to have you here.” 

“Pleasure is all mine, sir,” she replied, sitting down. 

“Please, just Julius. You’re a partner here, and we are glad L.A. decided to lend us one of their top litigators,” Julius said. “So, how may I help you?” 

“Ah, thank you, and it’s just Andy. I was told by your assistant that I now have the  _ Runway _ caseload? I was just taking a look at it—” 

“Yes, it was a bit last minute, but Diane suggested it and we are currently a little short staffed. There are a few interviews I’d like you to conduct as well, as your part of partner,” he explained. “You have a team of two associates and a paralegal for the  _ Runway _ cases, though I will mention that they’re mostly corporate.” 

“Yes, I saw,” Andy said. “You’ll want updates on the divorce case, I presume? I’m to report to Will and Diane as well. High-profile and everything.” 

Julius nodded. “Yes, please do. Great to have you here, Andy.” 

“Great to be here.”

Andy hurried back to her office, telling her assistant to tell her associate team to meet her there. 

“Ms Sachs? I’m Cary Agos and this is Lucca Quinn. We were placed on the  _ Runway _ cases,” a young man introduced, holding out his hand.

“Nice to meet you, you as well,” she replied, shaking his hand and the young woman’s as well. “I’m here by request of the client, of which I’ll brief you. For now, these,” Andy pointed at the numerous boxes littering her office floor, “are to be sorted through and if you find anything regarding contract law, let me know immediately. I believe we also have a paralegal on our team? Use them, this is mainly corporate, so we’ll be busy with paperwork.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” the woman—Lucca, right?—said. 

“Just Andy, please.” Lucca nodded, and she and Cary hurried to collect the boxes. 

“Thank you!” Andy called, and pulled up her endless tabs on New York law. She’s in for a long day. (And a fuckton of paperwork. Again.)

Andy slumped in her chair, absolutely exhausted. She had been called into court to quickly deal with a discovery issue, which had happened because opposing counsel lost it themselves, and the paralegal completely forgot to go through the  _ Runway _ files, leaving more review for Andy, along with the quick study of New York law. Jesus, how the hell did she pass the bar in the first place? 

* * *

She sighed, rubbing her forehead. Okay. She was done for the day. Time to book herself into that nice hotel room the firm was paying for and sleep like the dead. Grabbing her things, she rushed out of the darkened building and down to the closest subway. Damnit. Needed to buy a MetroCard. 

Walking quickly through the somewhat busy streets—it was late, after all—she was strongly reminded of her days rushing about to drop off The Book. Of course, Miranda’s neighbourhood was much nicer than the one she was currently in—though it wasn’t like  _ Lockhart & Gardner _ was in the shabby side of town. 

The streetlights flashed brightly above her and Andy slowed down, before stopping before a very, very familiar building. Well. Guess all things lead back here. (It wasn’t like it was a surprise. Miranda was very, very difficult to forget.) 

Well. Fuck it. 

She walked through the doors of the _Elias-Clarke_ building, and found that the lobby had been completely revamped in the past ten years. Looked like security had also been increased. 

“Hi, I’m here for Miranda Priestly? I’m her lawyer and this is just a drop-in—” she started, before the receptionist cut her off. 

“Ms Sachs? There’s a badge here for you,” the lady said, handing over the lanyard. Huh. Miranda was expecting her? Strange. 

“Thank you,” Andy replied, and walked over to the elevators, feeling twenty-six all over again. Christ. Get a grip, Sachs. The doors pinged, and Andy stepped in, finding it completely empty. Would Miranda even be in right now? It was late. She’d guessed she’d find out. 

The ride all the way up to the forty-seventh floor was long. Almost unbearably long. She resisted the urge to snatch out her law review books and read through them. The doors rang, and she stepped out to an office that had minimally changed in the past decade. Jesus, were those even the same kind of flowers? 

Miranda may have liked to be unpredictable, but she, like all people, hadn’t liked change. That was one thing Andy had remembered above all. (Well, there were a lot of things, right down to Miranda’s coffee order, but that was one of the more important ones.) 

The halls were darkened and there were no assistants at the very, very, if not too, familiar desks outside of Miranda’s office. But there was one lone light, almost flickering, in the dim room. Along with the furious clack of a keyboard. (Andy was sure glad that it wasn’t her work product that was definitely being slaughtered right now.) 

“Hey.” 

Miranda glanced up, freezing. 

“Andrea?” Andy nodded. 

“Yup,” she replied, popping the “p”. “Good old me.” 

“What on earth are you doing here? Book an appointment,” Miranda said. She sounded just a little annoyed, but Andy saw her frown soften.

“You’re the one who’d expected me,” Andy replied, holding up her badge. Miranda sat up, defensive. 

“It made sense. You’re my lawyer, sometimes lawyers need to drop in.” 

“Mm. Of course. I was reviewing the very, very tedious set of laws your state had decided to enforce, to deal with a little something that I had nothing to do with,” she said, teasingly. “Long day?” 

Miranda sat back in her chair, gesturing Andy to take a seat. She shook her head, merely leaning against the door frame, her hands in her pockets. 

“When is it not?” she grumbled, closing her laptop. “I hope to God you don’t have some lawyer news to share with me, because whenever lawyers visit, it’s never a good sign.” 

Andy laughed, watching as Miranda cracked a smile. 

“No, no,” she said, looking down. “No bad news, as of yet. Just stopping in.” 

Miranda hummed. “Been a while since you’ve been back here, hasn’t it?” 

“Just a couple years,” Andy replied. Miranda tilted her head and looked at her carefully. “You want to grab a drink?” 

Miranda paused. Did she look… shocked? “Much too late to go in a bar,” she finally said, opening a bottom cabinet and pulling out two wine glasses. “Red or white?” 

“Red, please,” Andy said, sitting down as Miranda poured. 

“Why aren’t you a journalist?” 

“Huh?” 

“You walked into my office ten years ago and essentially demanded a job to get a start in journalism, so why aren’t you there now?” Miranda casually asked, sipping her wine. Huh. Interesting. 

“So you’ve been following my career?” Andy teased. Miranda narrowed her eyes. 

“I must admit, I was surprised to hear from Diane that there was a very talented lawyer at her firm of the name Andrea Sachs,” she said. 

“Well, after I, rather unceremoniously quit,” Miranda snorted, “I got a job at _ The Mirror _ , but like a lot of publications, it folded during the recession. And print has long gone out of business,” Andy straightforwardly explained.

“So law, then,” Miranda commented. Andy took a gulp from her glass. 

“Yeah. Law.” 

The two women looked at each other, with Andy carefully examining Miranda. The woman’s makeup had clearly seen the day, there were bits that just didn’t hold up that Andy knew too well. She was well-dressed as always, impeccably, and the only thought running through Andy’s head was just how in the world of fuck could Stephen throw this away. 

“So divorce, then,” Andy quipped back, after a while. Maybe it was the wine talking, but Miranda didn’t completely murder her as she’d expected. Well. Almost. 

“Yes,” Miranda said, crisply. 

“You have a pretty solid prenup, so I wouldn’t be too worried,” Andy offered, taking another sip. “Why now?” 

“Pardon me?” Miranda looked a little scandalised. Or maybe she was just tired. It was a long day. 

“Why now? He’d wanted to ten years ago,” Andy repeated. Miranda shifted in her chair. 

“Don’t you find it funny, that we keep on referring to events nearly a whole decade ago?” 

Andy narrowed her eyes. “Stop trying to change the subject. Why now?” 

“I wasn’t sure I hired you to question me on why,” Miranda spat. Andy held her hands up in surrender. 

“Okay, okay, sorry! Just a little curious,” she admitted, sitting up straight. Poke the bear, that’s what you get. “As your lawyer, I should be knowing the full story, though.” 

Miranda glared at her. “Why, we’re not going to court, are we?” 

Andy shook her head. “No, no, nor do I expect to, but it makes things a lot easier if you give me the full story instead of me asking our investigator to snoop through your life.” 

Miranda’s glare only strengthened. Andy only chuckled.

“You haven’t lost any of it, have you? Hell, you barely age,” Andy commented. She thought she saw Miranda’s lips turn up. 

“Blood of virgins, as they say. Great for many things,” Miranda joked. Andy laughed, the sound filling the room. Miranda’s eyes brightened. 

“So. Am I getting the full story or am I giving our investigator more hours?” 

Miranda swept up her bag and laptop. 

“I’m to get going for tonight, it’s late,” she said. Andy nearly groaned. 

“Come on, I’m going to get it eventually,” she whined. Miranda picked up their glasses and placed them in the sink in the kitchenette to the side. 

“You’re not five, stop sounding like it,” Miranda snapped. 

“That’s the alcohol, smart one,” Andy shot back. She too, gathered her things and followed Miranda out of the now dark office. “You heading home with a man?” she jokingly teased. 

Miranda bristled.

“Hey, hey, I was kidding,” Andy said, her voice softening. Jesus, the wine was really getting to her. 

Miranda merely smirked. “You’re a lightweight.” 

“Am not!” 

“Come on, it’s late, and I’m sure you’ve got a long day tomorrow,” Miranda coaxed, gesturing for Andy to follow her into the elevator. The doors pinged. 

“If I were an assistant, you would’ve murdered me.”

“Well good thing you’re my lawyer and not my assistant now,” Miranda retorted. 

“Good thing.” 

And the two of them rode the elevator down together, with Andy nearly racing back to her hotel and falling into bed before she could remember what the hell happened.

> _ “We were high and we were sober _
> 
> _ We were under, we were over _
> 
> _ We were young and now I'm older _
> 
> _But I'd do it all again.”_ —Ellie Goulding, Kygo, “First Time” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another update! I said before that it'd be a weekly update, but I'm almost done the entire piece, so updates will be every other day. Hope you enjoyed, leave a comment for what you think!


	3. i'll wait, i'll wait

It had been a few days since Andy last stopped by _Runway_ for a drink with its unflappable Editor-in-Chief, and two main things seemed to have changed: first, Andy does now, completely and utterly understand New York divorce law. And New York contract law. And New York corporate law. Just New York law. Second, Miranda Priestly isn’t telling her something. 

She’d known it the minute she questioned the woman on her marriage, but with the firm’s main investigators busy on the Davidson murder trial, there was a bit of a waiting period before Andy would get any answers. 

Of course, she could just get them from her client, but with this particular client, she was sure that she would have to physically squeeze it out of her. 

Andy’d get it, of course. She needed to. Quickly, she finished up typing out the complete divorce papers, outlining Miranda’s demands that she had so succinctly emailed to her. It was pretty clear that Miranda wanted nothing but a clean break from her husband. 

Andy remembered red wine and tiredness and wondered how the hell he could give this up. 

Well. A long time ago, she wondered how the hell Miranda was married in the first place. (She guessed things changed, and yeah. Things did change.) 

As she sifted through the corporate papers regarding _Runway_ , she was startled by a loud knock on her door.

“Come in!” she called, not even looking up. “How may I help yo—” 

Miranda Priestly was standing in her doorway, her dress slightly wrinkled and hair mussed, presumably by the wind. 

“Miranda?” 

“Good evening, Andrea,” Miranda greeted, and sat down, ignoring Andy’s shock. (Of course, she really shouldn’t be shocked, since Miranda was her client, but it was late. It was late the last time too.) 

“News? You could just call for updates,” she remarked, closing the manila folder. 

“Yes, but I want a glass of scotch and you lawyers always have scotch,” Miranda said, sitting primly. Andy chuckled. 

“Well, you’re right about that,” she replied, getting up to her cabinet. “You see, as this isn’t my office, here’s the most expensive one.” She poured out two fingers for both her and Miranda. 

“Long day?” 

Miranda merely nodded. She nearly downed the entire glass as Andy frowned. 

“Stephen’s refusing the divorce.” 

Ah. That’s why. 

“Well, that isn’t completely uncommon with this, but I will point out that you have requested to divorce on the grounds of no-fault,” Andy said, quickly bringing all her files on the Priestly case up. “Mr. Priestly, could, possibly cause you trouble on that.” 

Miranda just stared at her. Her makeup was very careful today, and held up a lot better than it had last time Andy saw her. 

“If you could produce evidence of otherwise, or provide another reason for divorce, it would be much more difficult for Mr. Priestly to contest it,” Andy explained. Miranda sat up straighter. 

“Very well.” She took another sip. 

“Miranda, if there’s something that you know, you have to tell me. I cannot represent you properly if you keep me in the dark.” 

Miranda sat back, nearly slumping in her chair. 

“Don’t you ever get married,” she commented, looking out Andy’s window. Andy chuckled. 

“Wasn’t planning on it. You think if I was I would be here at 10:30 on a Friday?” 

Miranda sighed, but looked at her sharply. 

“Why aren’t you married?” 

“Well, first, I’m a lawyer,” Andy said, slowly. That was pretty clear, wasn’t it? 

“You’re young, well-employed, not bad looking, where’s the husband?” Miranda asked. Andy stopped listening after “not bad looking”. 

“Huh?” 

Miranda rolled her eyes. 

“Where’s the husband?” 

“Been a while since I’ve even dated,” Andy admitted, relaxing a bit. Why on earth did she always have alcohol in Miranda Priestly’s presence? It was nothing but a recipe for disaster. 

Miranda ran her hands through her hair, slightly swiping at her face. The makeup crumbled, just a little. Just a little, but enough. 

“Miranda,” Andy began. She set down her glass. “Do you have other grounds of divorce?” 

Miranda shook her head. 

“He isn’t a bad man, you know,” she said. Andy just stared at the woman’s cheek. “Isn’t a bad husband.” 

“Other grounds for divorce would make this easier.” 

“Mm. I understand.” 

Andy couldn’t stand it. 

“What the fuck happened to your cheek?” 

Miranda frowned, her hand reaching up to her face. 

“Whatever do you mean?” 

“Miranda, are there other grounds for divorce?” Andy repeated, harsher. 

“God, who knew lawyers were so snoopy?” Miranda snarked, getting up. “Watch your tone. I hired you.” 

Andy sat back, appalled.

“Of course,” she replied, primly. “Please let me know if you have any other questions.” 

“Yes,” Miranda said, crisply, stalking out of Andy’s office. 

Well. At least she knew that there was definitely something up. 

* * *

Andy spent the next few days mulling over divorce notes and piles, piles, and goddamn piles of paperwork. As usual, she was in the office until nine or ten most days, but tomorrow, she decided, she would take and see the city. 

She never really got a chance ten years ago, and suddenly remembered something Nigel had said. Jesus. Nearly a decade ago. “Finally, I’ll be able to see the city for myself.” Well. This was her chance. 

Her assistant had already left, along with most people in the office, though there were a few associates still milling around, as most of them did. Andy almost chuckled. Ah, to be a first year associate at a law firm. 

Organizing her files—she was not taking them back to the hotel tonight—Andy grabbed her phone and locked up the office as she left. 

Turning the corner, she ran through her emails quickly—

“Christ!” she exclaimed, bumping into someone and fumbling her phone. Looking up—oh. Of course. Miranda. 

“Miranda!” she said, shoving her phone into her pocket. Miranda looked tired. “How may I help you?” 

“Can we speak in your office?” 

Andy mentally groaned. She was so close to her weekend. 

“Of course, right this way,” she politely forced out, flickering the lights back on and dumping her bag unceremoniously on the ground beside her desk. 

“You know, I do have a phone number,” Andy started. “And office hours.” 

Miranda merely stared at her. She fiddled with her hands. Andy didn’t think she’d ever seen Miranda fidget. She picked up a pen, ready to take notes, until Miranda waved her hand.

“That won’t be needed. We don’t need this on record,” Miranda said. Andy frowned. 

“I’ll be the judge of that, I’m your lawyer. I’d like a record,” Andy replied, opening her notebook. Miranda sighed. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. Andy dropped her pen. She’s pretty sure her jaw dropped too. 

“What?” she sputtered. Miranda glared at her. 

“Don’t make me repeat it.” 

“What for?” Andy asked. Miranda rolled her eyes. 

“Do I need to spell it out for you?” 

Andy looked at her. “No, really. What for?” 

Seriously. What the hell had made Miranda Priestly apologize? Man, Andy had barely heard a single “thank you” during her entire time as Miranda’s assistant. 

Miranda glared at her. 

“The other day. I was rude,” she calmly said. “I apologize.” 

“Wow. The day I see the great Miranda Priestly apologize,” Andy gloated, sitting back in her chair, playing with her pen. She was sure she was grinning like a banshee. 

Miranda laughed and Andy could only think of how lovely it sounded. 

“Anything else you wanted to come here for? Considering that this is a billable hour,” Andy added with just a little bit of snark. 

“Lawyers,” Miranda grumbled. 

“Anything on other grounds for divorce?” 

Miranda froze. 

“No.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Andy looked at Miranda carefully. Her makeup was better today. Maybe it was an easier day at the office. 

“Yes,” Miranda said crisply. She was nicely dressed today—when was she not?—but the clothes seemed… more relaxed. More comfortable. (Not that a three piece suit could be that comfortable, but Miranda looked calmer. Maybe it was just Andy’s eyes playing tricks on her after the days of paperwork.) 

“You want to grab dinner?” Andy asked, completely out of nowhere. Fuck. She wanted to stab herself with the pen. Well, might as well go big or go home. “I sure haven’t eaten and I doubt you have either, if you’ve just come from work.” 

To her surprise, Miranda nodded. 

“How about we just order something here?” 

Andy shook her head. “Come on, I haven’t seen the city and who else to show me around but a true local?” she teased, getting up and grabbing her bag. 

Miranda smiled, shaking her head. 

“A true local, really Andrea?” 

Andy nodded. “Mhm, I expect nothing but the best from tour guide Miranda Priestly!” 

And with that, they were out the door and into the cold streets of New York City. 

* * *

“So, where are we going?” Andy asked, as the two of them strolled the sidewalk. The streetlights shone brightly above them, and it was relatively quiet for the city. Still some people milling about, everyone on their way to their own lives. 

“You said dinner,” Miranda said, her heels clicking loudly on the pavement. Andy nearly laughed at the sound. 

“So, where is dinner?” Andy pestered, looping her arm around Miranda’s. The woman tensed at first, but eventually relaxed. 

“The years have made you bold, Andrea,” Miranda said, glancing at their hands. 

“I’m a lawyer. It’s my job to be bold,” Andy quipped. 

“I hope this isn’t a billable hour.” 

Andy laughed. 

“No, no, off the job for now. But you never know with lawyers,” she joked back. She saw Miranda crack a smile. 

The two walked down the street in comfortable silence, Roy in Miranda’s car trailing quietly behind them. It was almost strange. 

“What happened to Nigel?” Andy asked out of nowhere. The city was lovely at night. 

“Happily employed at _Conde Nast_ ,” Miranda replied. 

“Mm. Guess it worked out for him,” she mused. Miranda looked at her. 

“It could’ve worked out for you, too,” she quietly said.

Andy paused.

“Yeah. It could’ve.” 

* * *

“Jesus, this is good,” Andy said, nearly moaning at the pasta that she’d shoved into her mouth. She was very suddenly hit with the reminder that she’d forgotten lunch earlier. 

Miranda chuckled. “New York’s finest.” 

“I hope you’re picking up the tab, then,” Andy joked. “My paycheque is nowhere near yours.” 

Miranda looked at her. Fuck. Had she said something wrong? Andy covered her mouth with her hand, swallowing. 

“That was a joke,” she said carefully, putting down her fork. 

“Of course, don’t worry about it,” Miranda quietly said. Andy studied her quickly before going back to her dinner. 

“So,” Andy began, trying to start conversation and avoid the slightly vacant stare in Miranda’s eyes, “Cassidy’s at Stanford. What about Caroline?” 

Miranda looked up at Andy, a small smile gracing her features. Andy thought she looked lovely when she smiled. 

“She’s at Oxford, a whole sea away,” Miranda said, picking at her meal. 

“Wow, you’ve got some smart kids,” Andy remarked. “Oxford, Stanford, what’s next, Harvard?” 

Miranda smiled again, a real one this time, and Andy knew she’d hit it right. 

* * *

“Thank you,” Miranda said, when the two women finished up their wine and pasta. Andy laughed. 

“God, no, thank you! You paid the bill,” Andy joked, collecting her bag. 

“It was a lovely evening,” Miranda said, touching Andy’s hand. Miranda’s skin was incredibly soft. What the fuck kind of hand cream did she use? 

“I had a good time,” Andy replied in turn. 

“Let me drive you back, at least,” Miranda offered, as they left the restaurant. “What hotel are you staying at?” 

“Oh Miranda, I can just call for a company car—” 

Miranda raised a hand at her protests. 

“Which hotel?” the woman said, arching an eyebrow. Andy looped her arm around Miranda’s again. 

“The Sheraton.” 

Miranda hummed, and Andy opened the car door for her, feeling ready to rush to the other side to get in. 

“I swear I was just sent back ten years,” Andy commented, as she sat on leather seats that haven’t seemed to have changed over the course of a decade. “Hey Roy,” she greeted. The driver glanced back with a nod in the mirror. 

Miranda might have liked to be unpredictable, but she did not like change. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Andrea,” Miranda said. Andy laughed. 

“Now that, really sent me back ten years.” 

Andy watched Miranda as they lapsed into a nice silence, as the hum of the city surrounded them. Jesus. The woman really didn’t age. Miranda seemed… happier tonight. Certainly more relaxed, but that was most likely due to the copious amount of alcohol flowing throughout dinner. 

“How’d you know Diane?” Andy asked, leaning back comfortably and looking up at Miranda. She looked slightly surprised at the question. 

“She didn’t tell you?” 

“I’m not that chummy with my boss,” Andy shot back. Chummy? Christ. Maybe she was a little more than just tipsy. 

“Just chummy with former ones,” Miranda mumbled. Andy grinned. 

“Come on, you like me,” she said. Okay. Maybe she was drunk. 

“We went to university together,” Miranda answered. Ah. Made sense. 

“Not law school, right?” 

Miranda chuckled. 

“No, not law school.” 

Andy just stared at Miranda. She was beautiful. 

“You’re a lightweight,” Miranda whispered as they pulled up to Andy’s hotel. 

“Am not,” Andy insisted. Miranda merely smiled. Andy liked it when Miranda smiled. 

“Come on, I’m going in with you,” Miranda said, getting out of the car. Huh? What? Andy scrambled up to catch up with her. 

“It’s fine, I can get back just fin—” 

Miranda’s lips were on hers and she tasted of expensive red wine and the pasta they had for dinner and the cool night and the scent of the leather seats in her car and her hands were on Andy’s waist and Andy was kissing back and—

“Let’s get you upstairs,” Miranda said, grabbing Andy’s hand and pulling her inside. Andy leaned her head against Miranda’s. 

“I can’t do this,” she whispered. “I’m your lawyer. It’s unethical.” 

Miranda didn’t reply as they waited awkwardly for the elevators. 

“What floor?” Miranda calmly asked. 

“Uh, twenty-eighth.” 

Miranda pushed the button with a ping. They rode up and Andy forced herself to avoid Miranda’s glaze and the taste of Miranda’s lips and how soft they were and how different it was compared to a man and how she wanted to do it again—

“Twenty-eight,” the elevator sounded. Andy didn’t look at Miranda. 

“Good night,” Miranda said. Andy couldn’t bring it to her to say it back. 

She left the elevator with a ping.

> _“I'll wait, I'll wait to be the one_
> 
> _To catch you when you're falling_
> 
> _Always, always, I'll be the one_
> 
> _To answer when you're calling.”_ —The Strumbellas, “I’ll Wait”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update! Let me know what you thought and stay safe out there.


	4. i just want you to know who i am

“Janice, can you have Cary come into my office, please?” Andy called through the intercom. She sighed, putting aside the papers on the Priestly divorce. 

It was wrong. She was married. (Well, separated. But still married. Married about to be divorced.) It was unethical. Improper. Not disbarrable, per se, but bad enough. 

(Rule one in law school: Never represent yourself. Rule two: Don’t sleep with clients.) 

Technically, she’d never broken either of those. (Even if she did want to break the second one. Not that Andy’d ever admit that.) 

“He’s on his way,” Janice said, shoving Andy out of her head. Right. 

“Hey Cary,” Andy greeted as the young associate stepped in. 

“Hey, you needed me on something?” 

Andy nodded. 

“I need you to take more on the Priestly divorce,” she said, handing him her current files. He frowned. 

“Why? Is there something wrong?” he asked, taking the documents and sifting through them. 

“I’ve been watching your work and I think it’s time for you to take on something more,” Andy said, looking at him. It wasn’t just a well placed excuse. (Though it really did work.) Cary was a hard working associate. She’d let him hand hold Miranda. (Even if Andy really wanted to do that part herself.) 

Cary smiled, getting up. “Thanks, Andy. I’ll contact Ms Priestly later,” he said. 

“And don’t call her Ms Priestly, she hates it,” Andy called as he left her office. “Janice, can you direct all calls from Miranda to Cary, now?” she asked into the intercom. 

Well. Got that part done. She took a quick look at her calendar, reviewing what was left for her schedule. 

Oh. Fuck. Completely forgot about the fundraising gala. For all the clients of _Lockhart & Gardner _. 

Of which Miranda was, obviously, a client of _Lockhart & Gardner _. 

(And she had to find something to wear, to add onto that.) 

Would Miranda even go? She had better things to do, surely? God, Andy hoped she was right. And she’ll have time to update Diane in person as to why she was taking a step back from one of their largest clients. 

This week was going great. Andy nearly groaned as she glanced at the pile of paperwork for corporate _Runway_. 

She’d hoped a week would be enough to forget the taste of Miranda’s lips and the softness of her hair. (She should’ve learnt that you never forget Miranda Priestly.) 

She glared at the paperwork. Might as well get to work.

* * *

Like any good lawyer, she’d packed a cocktail dress for occasions that may have required it, but there was nothing in her suitcase that was fit for a gala of this size. She’d have to take a good look at her options. 

“Andy? You have a Mr. Kipling here without an appointment?” Janice called through the intercom. 

Wait. Who? It couldn’t be. He wasn’t even at _Runway_ anymore. 

“Send him in,” Andy replied, looking up from her laptop. 

“Six!” 

“Nigel!” she exclaimed, jumping up and pulling him in for a hug. “God, long time no see, huh?” 

“Well, you were the one who moved to the other side of the country,” he shot back, taking a seat. 

“If this isn’t a surprise!” Andy said. “You look good.” He did. He was nicely dressed in a three piece suit that probably cost more than Andy’s salary. (And Andy was paid pretty well.) 

“Well, this is what freedom does for you,” he joked, sitting back. “A little bird dropped the fact that you were back in town and I just had to see for myself.” 

“Partner at one of top law firms in the country. Freedom is pretty good,” she said. “Did the little bird happen to be Miranda Priestly?” 

Nigel chuckled, nodding. “I also wanted to grab a look at the offices of her law firm. We may or may not be considering taking our business elsewhere,” Nigel said, looking at her slyly. Andy perked up. 

“You’re not happy at _Crawford and Associates_?” 

“Let’s just say that there were expectations that have yet to be met,” Nigel said. 

“Here’s my card, if you’re ever considering taking your business at one of the largest and best law firms in America,” Andy said, sliding him her business card. “In fact,” she added, “we’re hosting a fundraiser next week to support homeless children in New York. Ms Lockhart and Mr. Gardner will be there.” 

Nigel raised his eyebrows. “Okay. Email me the details.” 

“Of course. Are you here for anything other than just spying?” Andy joked. 

“So this… fundraiser. It’s a gala, isn’t it?” Nigel asked, tone sly. Andy nearly rolled her eyes. “You need something to wear, don’t you?” 

“Was that a question?” Andy snipped back, even though yes, she did need something to wear. 

“Meet me at the _Elias-Clarke_ lobby at seven tonight. We’re getting you something to wear,” Nigel ordered. Andy felt like she was back at _Runway_ all over again. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay,” Nigel said, leaving her office with no goodbye. Andy nearly laughed to herself. Some things changed over ten years, some things didn’t. It seemed Nigel hadn’t. Seven, alright. (That fixed one problem. The Miranda thing was a whole other.)

* * *

“You married?” Nigel asked, as they were browsing the couture on the _Conde Nast_ floor. 

“No,” Andy replied, looking at the rows upon rows of expensive dresses. “How much money is in this room alone?” 

“More than you can afford,” Nigel said, his tone flat. (He wasn’t even kidding. He was right.) “Why aren’t you married?” 

“Why can’t I just go in a suit?” Andy nearly whined. She ignored his question. 

“You’re a lawyer. You’re always in a suit,” Nigel shot back, looking at a section of blue dresses. 

“Nothing sexy,” Andy warned, as Nigel picked through a couple way too low cut gowns. 

“You’re no fun,” he quipped, landing on a sleek black jumpsuit with gold floral details. He shoved it into her hands, along with a dark blue gown with silver linings. “Changing room is down that way, and I’ll find you some shoes.” 

Andy nodded, finding the rows of curtains. Nigel handed her five more dresses while heading to the shoe section. 

“Don’t you have models to play around with?” she called, starting to get undressed.

“But you’re so much more fun!” Nigel said, quickly coming back with two pairs of sky-high heels. Andy slid on the navy dress first. 

It fit like a glove. Nigel nearly pulled her out the minute she got the zip up. 

“Hm. Good,” he mused, gesturing for her to turn. Andy looked at herself in the mirror. It fit well. There was just… something off. Nigel seemed to agree. 

“Next one,” he ordered. Andy sighed. Well. She had agreed to this. 

She tried on the black jumpsuit next, noticing how soft the material was and how it draped over her legs. It felt like a fancier court room suit. Like she was armouring up for battle. Nigel’s eyes widened as she stepped out. 

“Turn,” he ordered. “Get on the shoes.” 

Jesus. The heels were high. But fuck, if she did look good, she realised, looking in the mirror. 

“Every man will want you after this,” Nigel said, looking at her. Andy glared at him, only to be shoved back into the dressing room with Nigel’s laugh filling the space. “Change and I’ll send it over to your hotel.”

“Thanks, Nigel!” Andy hollered. She just heard him snicker. 

* * *

“Will, Diane!” Andy called, walking over to the two name partners with Nigel in tow. 

“Andy!” Will called, pulling her in for a hug. “How’s the Priestly workload?” 

“Good, good,” she started. “I have to speak with you and Diane later,” she whispered in his ear. He nodded. “Diane, Will, this is Nigel Kipling, Editor-in-Chief at _Conde Nast_ ,” Andy introduced. 

“Mr. Kipling,” Diane said smoothly, holding out her hand. “An honour to meet you, sir.” 

Nigel laughed. “Please, just Nigel. Your Andy has been telling me all about the greatness of _Lockhart & Gardner. _” 

“ _Conde Nast_ may be a little unsatisfied at _Crawford and Associates,_ ” Andy explained, looking at Will and Diane knowingly. 

“Well, Nigel, let us explain a little about our firm,” Diane began, and Andy smiled, leaving them to it. She wandered off, grabbing a glass of champagne from the waitress, watching the grandness of it all. (She was totally not looking for the familiar coif of silver hair in the crowd.) 

Walking off to the balcony to grab some fresh air—or about as fresh as it would get in New York City—she ran through her emails, checking the time. 

And just as she looked up, there she was on the other side of the room.

Oh fuck. She glanced back at Will and Diane, who were deep in conversation with Nigel. Fuck. Andy set her champagne flute down and scrambled to the bathroom—surely, Miranda wouldn’t follow her there, right? 

She rested her hands on the counter, looking at herself in the mirror. Makeup was pristine. Outfit divine. Successful. Partner at one of the top law firms in America. Miranda Priestly can not, absolutely should not, still be making her feel this way. Quickly touching up her lipstick, Andy proudly strutted out of the bathroom, her heels clicking loudly on the fancy floors. 

She approached Will and Diane and grabbed another glass on her way. 

“Have they convinced you to join us?” she asked Nigel, her tone light. He grinned at her. 

“Meet your newest client at _Lockhart & Gardner _,” Nigel said, elbowing her. Andy beamed. 

“Welcome to the fold,” Andy said, shaking Nigel’s hand, and sharing smiles with Will and Diane. 

“I also want her as my lawyer, on all my cases,” Nigel added, looking at the two name partners. 

“Done,” Will replied, shaking his hand. “We only provide the best of service and Andy is one of our top litigators.” 

Nigel nodded. 

“Now, I need to quickly speak to our top litigator,” Diane interrupted, pulling Andy away. “Will mentioned you needed to speak to me about something? Is it the Priestly divorce?”

“I’ve needed to take a step back due to reasons I cannot divulge as covered by attorney-client privilege. Don’t worry, I’ve handed it properly and the associates on my team are highly qualified,” Andy explained. Diane looked at her carefully. 

“I don’t need to say that this client is very important,” she said quietly. Andy nodded. 

“It’s being handled,” Andy reassured her. Diane nodded tightly. 

“What’s being handled?” 

Andy whipped around. 

Fuck. 

“Miranda!” Diane greeted, kissing the woman’s cheek. Andy nodded at her. “We were just discussing a case.” 

“Hope it wasn’t mine,” Miranda said, looking at Andy sharply. 

“No, no, a corporate one,” Diane lied. “It’s good to see you!” 

“And the eight-seven million I bring you,” Miranda joked. Diane laughed, throwing her head back. She led Miranda over to the bar, leaving Andy behind. “Let me grab you a drink.” 

Andy nearly sighed of relief, as Nigel joined her. 

“What’s she bugging you about?” he asked, looking at Miranda. 

“Who said she was bugging me about anything?” 

“Your face,” Nigel said pointedly. “You never had much of a poker face to begin with.” 

“Just a case. Work,” she said. Nigel looked at her suspiciously. 

“Come on, I’m paying you now,” he coaxed. Andy glared at him. 

“Which is all the reason to not tell you. I’m your lawyer now.” 

“Alright, little Miss Secrets, keep it to yourself,” he grumbled, stalking off to grab another drink. 

Andy fell back into a chair, gulping down her champagne, until someone grabbed her arm. 

“Hey!” 

“You’re coming with me,” Miranda ordered—of course it was fucking Miranda—dragging her out the door. 

“Jesus, Miranda!” she exclaimed, yanking her arm back. “You can just tell me.” 

“Clearly not, since my lawyer is now all of a sudden Cary Agos,” she sneered, leading them to her car. 

“We can’t be doing this,” Andy hissed, gesturing between them. “Christ, I can’t even begin with why we can’t be doing this.” 

Miranda glared at her. 

“I’m not getting in the car.” 

“Do you really want to discuss this in the middle of the street?” Miranda snapped. 

“No, because there’s nothing to talk about. I’m your lawyer, you’re my client, and that’s final,” Andy said firmly. “If you have an issue with that, please contact me during my office hours.” 

And with that, she stalked back to the gala with complete plans to get wasted. 

She missed Miranda calling her name.

> _“And I don't want the world to see me_
> 
> _'Cause I don't think that they'd understand_
> 
> _When everything's meant to be broken_
> 
> _I just want you to know who I am.”_ —Goo Goo Dolls, “Iris”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ending it on a bit of an angsty note today! If you want to see what Andy was wearing at the gala, the photo of Anne Hathaway is [here.](https://www.redcarpet-fashionawards.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/05/Anne-Hathaway-In-Elie-Saab-The-Hustle-LA-Premiere-735x1024.jpg) Let me know what you think and stay safe out there everyone.


	5. small doses

“Andy?” Cary called, poking his head into her office. 

“Yes?” she said, looking up from the _Conde Nast_ case file. 

“Just some updates on the Priestly divorce; it’s almost finalized, and we just need to have her husband sign it and we should be good to go,” he explained, placing the complete documents on her desk. Clearly, Miranda hadn’t told Cary anything about Stephen refusing the divorce. She was going to have to press their investigator into finding another cause for their annulment.

“Thank you, you’ve done a good job on this,” Andy complimented, skimming through the pile of papers. “Let me read this over and I’ll send it back.”

Cary nodded and scurried back to his desk. Andy sighed, taking off her glasses.

“Hey Janice, can you get me the investigator here?” Andy called through the intercom. 

“Robyn’s on her way,” Janice replied. Andy sat back, reading through the divorce papers. Cary was very thorough. More thorough than Andy would’ve been, but then again, Andy had been practicing Californian law for the past seven years. 

“Ms Sachs, you requested to see me?” a young girl asked, who couldn’t have been older than twenty-five with long blonde hair. 

“Yes, Robyn, is it?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“I need you to look into a case for me. On the Priestly divorce,” Andy said as Robyn sat down and whipped out a notebook. 

“Yes?” she asked, gesturing for Andy to continue. Andy cleared her throat. 

“I need you to find other grounds for divorce, such as infidelity. Miranda’s husband is refusing to sign the papers,” Andy explained. Robyn nodded. 

“When do you need this by?” 

“Within the next week, please,” Andy requested. 

“Okay, gotcha. I’ll update you,” she said, and left Andy’s office before she could say “thank you”. 

She returned to the divorce package. Christ, it was long. (It’d been a while too since she’s reviewed family law.) 

* * *

_ BAM _ . Andy jumped as the door slammed open. 

“Why on earth haven’t you been returning my calls?” 

Miranda. 

“Calm down! People can see us,” Andy hissed, shutting the door. It didn’t help that all the walls were glass in this goddamn office. 

“These are your office hours, aren’t they?” Miranda snapped, dropping her bag in a huff. Andy carefully walked back to her desk. 

“Yes, but there’s also a reception area and I have an assistant,” Andy slowly said.

“I’ve called thrice in the past two days. All to your office,” Miranda snarled. Oh right. Andy had ordered all calls to be passed onto Cary and Lucca. 

“And my fellow associates have been made available for those calls,” Andy smoothly said.

“Did I not request you specifically as my lawyer?” Miranda asked accusingly.

“Yes, but I also have a team of lawyers that I direct,” Andy replied, sitting down primly. “Now that you’ve calmed down, how may I help you?” Andy asked sweetly, pulling out her pen and notepad. 

Miranda huffed and sat down. Jesus. She was even graceful when she was mad. 

“I have other grounds for divorce,” Miranda said carefully. Andy raised an eyebrow. Okay. That was… unexpected. She nodded at Miranda to continue. 

“Stephen has hit me. On multiple occasions,” Miranda started, evenly. She sat up straighter, if that was even possible. Andy jotted it down, trying to ignore the fact that she wanted to punch Stephen into the next century. “At times, it bruises, but mostly it’s easy to hide. That’s most likely his goal,” Miranda finished, almost in a bored tone, as if she was describing the mediocrity of a month’s layout. 

Andy watched Miranda carefully. 

“Have you documented these bruises?” Andy asked, her voice calm. Too calm. 

“Yes. I have photos on my phone,” Miranda replied. “Is that ‘other grounds’ enough for you?” she snarked. 

“Yes, it is,” Andy said, quietly. She looked at Miranda, carefully scanning her face. Her make was well done today, holding up nicely. Andy had to mentally shake herself to forget how sweet Miranda smelt, how soft her hair was—

She also felt like throwing up.

“I suppose we’re finished here, then,” Miranda said, picking up her bag. Andy looked up at her. 

“Are you alright?” 

Miranda stared at her. 

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Andy gave her a look. 

“This is a billable hour, isn’t it?” Miranda said, her tone light. Andy smiled. 

“Yup. I round up,” Andy replied, grinning. 

“Want to grab a drink tonight?” Miranda asked, turning back.

God. She couldn’t. She shouldn’t. 

“Sure,” Andy said. “Your office this time,” she jested. Miranda’s lips turned up and Andy couldn’t help but think of how soft they were. 

“Ten?” 

Andy nodded and Miranda left with a wave. 

She couldn’t stop the giddy feeling in her chest. 

* * *

“And he’s just standing there as his wife kisses Will right before him!” Andy exclaimed, holding a wine glass in her hand, sitting with her feet up in Miranda’s office. 

Miranda laughed, really truly, laughed, her head thrown back and Andy noticed how smooth her skin was. 

“God, I really shouldn’t laugh, but—” 

“He was the one who cheated,” Andy pointed out. “Anyways, Alicia is happy and her divorce is almost through, and honestly, happy Will makes for a happier firm.” 

Miranda nodded, taking a sip of her wine. 

“And happy Will makes for a happier Diane,” Andy added, glancing at Miranda. “Tell me, did the two of them date?” 

“Who, Will and Diane?” Miranda asked, slightly shocked. Andy nodded. She looked out the window, seeming to remember. Or maybe she was tipsier than Andy’d thought. 

“No, not to my knowledge. Diane’s married, anyways,” Miranda said, slightly forlorn, staring at her drink.

“Yeah. Kurt’s nice,” Andy mused, as they lapsed into silence. 

Miranda looked a little unkempt now, at the end of a long workday. The makeup was starting to falter, just a little, and she seemed… tired. 

“It’s almost over, you know,” Andy said, out of nowhere. Miranda looked at her quizzically. “The divorce,” Andy clarified. 

“Ah.” 

“How long?” Andy pressed. She had to know. 

“Not often,” Miranda said. 

“How long?” 

Miranda just stared at her. She took another sip of wine.

“Three years into our marriage.” 

Jesus. Andy was working at Runway then. She felt like she was going to throw up. 

“He’s a good man,” Miranda added. 

“Just not good to you,” Andy said darkly. Miranda chuckled. 

“You’re right there,” she agreed. Miranda looked lovely. Even at the end of the day. 

“Last time, when I’d asked,” Andy stumbled over her words. “Last time, was it then?” 

Miranda hummed. 

“Yes, it was.” 

Andy blanched. 

“I was surprised you’d noticed,” Miranda went on. “I’m very careful.” 

Andy just stared at her. 

“I hope he chokes on an ice cube to death,” Andy stated, matter-of-factly. Miranda looked at her, for a while. 

Then she burst into laughter. Real, absolute howling laughter. Andy joined her. 

“God,” Miranda said, catching her breath. “Me too,” she agreed, holding her glass up to meet Andy’s. 

“To you,” Andy said, smiling. 

Miranda smirked. 

“To me.” 

* * *

“Why the law?” Miranda asked, as the streetlights outside glowed brightly. It looked like it was late. Andy wasn’t sure anymore. 

“It’s easy,” Andy said, before laughing. “No, it isn’t.” 

“I was just going to say.” 

“It’s… it’s always there,” Andy began. “Something to hold ourselves to. A measurement. I like measurements.” 

Miranda hummed in agreement. 

“I haven’t seen you in court,” Miranda mused. Andy sat up. 

“Do you want to see me in court?” 

Oh no. She was toeing the line. (Didn’t she do that by coming here in the first place?) Maybe there was too much alcohol going around. She wasn’t sure. 

“Why L.A.?” Miranda asked, completely avoiding Andy’s question. 

“A job,” Andy snorted. “And Stanford was willing to take me again.” 

“You’ve had job opportunities here, certainly,” Miranda pressed. Did… Did Miranda want Andy to be in New York? Maybe the alcohol was making her see things. 

“Yeah, but  _ Lockhart & Gardner _ ? No way I was turning that down,” Andy replied. 

“Of course,” Miranda said. She looked off into the distance. Andy stole a glance at the clock. Jesus, was it midnight already? And she had to get up for work tomorrow. 

“It’s getting late. I should go,” Andy said, starting to pick her bag without stumbling. 

“Yea,” Miranda slurred. Maybe they were both drunker than they’d thought. She felt a little like Cinderella once the clock struck twelve. 

“Come back with me,” Miranda said. Andy whipped around. What? “You’re too drunk to drive.” 

Oh. That’s what she meant. Okay. 

“Okay,” she replied. 

They headed down to the elevators, with Andy thinking distinctly how nice it would be to kiss Miranda right now, to taste again the expensive wine they were drinking, to have her hands mess up Miranda’s carefully curated coif. 

The doors pinged and Miranda led her to the car, the scent of the leather seats almost burning up Andy’s nose. God. She could just reach over and—

Fuck. No. Lawyer. Client. She looked out the window for the entire car ride. 

As the car slowed to stop outside the hotel, Andy stole a quick glance at Miranda. She was watching her. Andy almost blushed under the intense stare. 

“Well, this is me,” Andy said, opening the door. “Good night, Miranda.” 

“Good night, Andrea.” 

She looked like she wanted to stop Andy. 

Andy left before she could.

* * *

“So, if you’d just sign here, Mr. Priestly,” Andy directed, as Stephen grudgingly picked up the pen. God, what she would do just to punch him right now. 

“A copy will be sent to your office,” Andy said, referring to Stephen’s lawyer. He nodded, indicating for his client to leave. 

“We just need to send this to the judge, but after that, you are officially divorced,” Andy said. “Congratulations!” 

Miranda smiled, shaking Andy’s hand. 

“Thank you,” she said, along with shaking Cary’s and Lucca’s. 

“You’re a single woman again,” Andy joked. Shit. Did she actually say that? Miranda grinned. (She smiled a lot more these days. Andy liked it.) 

“Yes, I am,” Miranda replied.

“Thank you, Cary, Lucca,” Andy said, and the two associates left the conference room. 

“So,” Miranda said, raising her eyebrow. 

“So?” Andy questioned. 

“You’re not my lawyer now,” Miranda said. Andy smiled. 

“I’m still  _ Runway’s _ lawyer,” she pointed out. 

“But not my lawyer,” Miranda retorted. 

Fuck it.

Andy kissed Miranda, pulling her closer by the neck and running her hands through the hair. Jesus. She tasted of lipstick, something that was bound to be extremely expensive, along with the sparkling water at the conference table and the mints at reception and—

“Not here,” Andy gasped, Miranda’s hands on her waist. Miranda nodded. 

“You’ve finished up your biggest case, haven’t you?” Miranda said, raising her eyebrows. 

“I have,” Andy said. 

“What hotel are you at again?” Miranda asked. Andy smirked. 

“The Sheraton.” 

“Okay,” Miranda said, pulling out her phone. “The Sheraton.” 

Andy shoved Miranda against her hotel room door the minute they stepped through. 

“God,” she gasped, stepping out of her heels. She slowly kissed Miranda’s neck, leaving behind lipstick marks across the pale skin. 

“Andrea,” Miranda panted, hair wonderfully disheveled. “It’s been a while since, since I’ve—” 

“Shhh,” Andy shushed, gently unbuttoning Miranda’s shirt. “You’re beautiful,” she whispered. Miranda gave a small gasp.

“Beautiful,” Andy repeated. 

* * *

“I fly back to L.A. in two days,” Andy said, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. She watched as Miranda got dressed. 

“I need to head back to work,” Miranda said in reply. (Was this how it was going to be?) 

“Okay,” Andy said slyly. “Let me kiss you before you go.” 

Miranda blushed. She was a lovely mess. Andy pulled her back. 

“They can miss you for another hour,” she whispered in her ear, kissing her on the neck. Miranda moaned. Andy grinned. 

* * *

Andy stared out the window as the plane started to fly, watching as the large buildings suddenly disappeared into small nothings as they descended above. She relaxed into her seat, fiddling with the provided pillow. 

Pulling out her laptop as soon as the seat belt sign dimmed, she reviewed a few cases as she tried to forget Miranda’s lips and Miranda’s scent and Miranda’s hair. 

God. 

What the hell was she supposed to do now?

> _ “I can only take you in small doses, small doses _
> 
> _ Loving you, it's explosive, you know this.”  _ —Bebe Rexha, “Small Doses”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update! Hope you're enjoying the story and let me know what you think. I love answering questions and stay safe out there.


	6. say goodbye to the world you thought you lived in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, to anyone who may have noticed, I accidentally posted Chapter 7 instead of Chapter 6. It's all fixed now. Happy reading!

_ One month later.  _

“Do they have any answer for why the hell we might be sued, anyways?” Andy asked to the conference room, only to be hit with a bunch of confirmed “no’s”. She sighed and rubbed her forehead, feeling a headache starting. And it was only Monday. 

“Cary, has discovery arrived yet?” The young associate shook his head and Andy was just about to murder opposing counsel. Jesus Christ. (She was this close to going to the judge and say that the prosecution was purposefully holding back.) 

“Andy?”

“Yes?” She spun around, scanning the crowded room for whoever just called her. Oh. Antia. 

“There’s a phone call for you,” she said. “Line three.” 

“Thanks,” Andy said, looking around for a company phone that wasn’t being used at the moment. 

“Hello?” she answered absentmindedly, running through the depositions on the table. “Who’s on witness prep?” 

“I most certainly am not,” the caller over the line said. Andy nearly dropped the phone. 

“Miranda?” 

“Have I caught you at a bad time?” 

Andy was speechless. 

“Hello?” 

“Yes, hi Miranda,” Andy sputtered. What the hell was she doing, calling now? After a whole month?

“I’m in town,” Miranda said, casually, as though she hadn’t just dropped a bomb into Andy’s lap. (Maybe this was how it was going to be.) 

“Does  _ Runway _ need my immediate legal assistance?” Andy asked professionally, almost jesting. She could almost see Miranda’s smile. 

“No, I’m visiting my daughter, who is, coincidentally, an intern at your law firm,” Miranda replied. Andy laughed. 

“It’s also the law firm you hired,” Andy quipped, signing a package Antia had placed in front of her. “Who is in charge of the deposition?” she asked to the room, covering the phone. 

“I’m in reception,” Miranda said. Andy almost dropped the phone. Again. 

“What?” 

“Diane and I have some catching up to do,” Miranda said. Jesus Christ. 

“I see,” Andy replied distractedly, as Cary gestured frantically at another phone on the other side of the room. “I’m sorry, but I’ve really got to go. I’ll call you back,” Andy rushed out, hanging up without hearing Miranda’s reply and scrambling to catch the call. 

“Who is it?” she mouthed at Cary, picking up the line. 

“Judge Cuesta,” he replied. Her eyes widened. Oh fuck. Okay. (Thank god she’d forgotten Miranda’s mouth and the softness of her hair. Or so she told herself.) 

“Your Honour,” she greeted politely. God. It was going to be a long day. 

* * *

“Mr Canning, that is absolutely ridiculous,” Andy spat into the phone, glancing up at a knock on her door. Miranda was standing there, leaning casually against the frame. Andy gestured for her to come in while she listened to Louis ramble on. 

“Absolutely not. Eight million,” she negotiated. She smiled tightly at Miranda, who had taken a seat. 

“Okay. Show that to a jury then,” Andy snapped, hanging up. “Sorry about that.” 

Miranda waved a hand. “You’re working. It’s always a pleasure to watch you.” 

_ Watch you?  _ Maybe this was exactly what Andy thought it was. 

“You need a lawyer?” Andy joked, sitting back. 

“I’m here for a week,” Miranda said suddenly. Okay. This was exactly what Andy thought it was. 

“Good to know,” Andy replied, calmly. The phone rang again. “I’ve really got to work.” 

Miranda nodded. 

“Good to see you,” Miranda said. Andy gave her a small smile. 

“Good to see you too.” 

Miranda left in a flurry of elegant perfume and Andy’s phone immediately gave a soft ping. 

_ Drinks tonight? I’ll pick you up.  _

Andy just laughed. 

* * *

“You even have a driver here?” Andy asked, slightly aghast, until she remembered that Miranda also had one in Paris. Miranda looked at her as if she was stupid. 

“Long day?” Miranda asked, holding the car door open for Andy as she slid in. 

“You could say,” Andy replied. “Is competency so difficult?”

“Careful, dear, you’re sounding like me,” Miranda joked. Andy’s head stopped working after the word “dear”. 

“Clients are a pain in the ass,” Andy complained. “Don’t you dare tell anyone I said that.” 

Miranda just laughed. Andy’d nearly forgotten how lovely it sounded. (Just nearly.) 

“Good thing I’m not your client, then,” Miranda said, looking at Andy. 

“Good thing,” Andy said, unable to stop herself, and pulled Miranda in for a kiss. She tasted a little like steak and some restaurant mints. 

“A whole month, huh?” she whispered, leaning her forehead against Miranda’s. Miranda didn’t say anything. Andy didn’t really expect her to. 

“Come on,” Miranda said once the car stopped. “I’m staying here for the week.” Andy stared at where they were. Of course Miranda Priestly was staying at Beverly Hills.

“Not with your daughter?”

“My daughter’s got three roommates,” Miranda snarked, grabbing Andy’s hand and pulling her towards the hotel. 

“Room service better be good,” Andy said. “Completely missed dinner.” 

Miranda smiled. They walked through the doors together, Andy completely blown away with just how… expensive everything looked. Even with her salary she doubted she could afford a week here. (Sometimes the twenty-six year old journalist stayed in her and that’s usually when she was confronted with money.) 

They rode the elevator up silently, listening as the floors were counted up. Andy looped her arm through Miranda’s. 

Just as Miranda slid her card into the lock, Andy found herself immediately pressed up against the wall, her bag dropping to the ground as Miranda kissed her roughly. 

Andy wound her hands through Miranda’s hair, ruining the carefully made coif, relishing in how soft it was. Miranda smelt like her signature perfume that Andy could never quite place but knew it was something state of the art or something. Maybe she’d ask. 

But the best thing about Miranda was how she sounded when Andy kissed her back, quiet, breathy gasps and the very, very slight smear of lipstick. 

“A whole month,” Andy said, between kisses. “Not even a phone call.” She pushed Miranda towards the bed. 

“Make up for it now,” Miranda gasped, as Andy unzipped her dress. 

“Damn right,” Andy smirked, kicking off her heels and leaning down to kiss Miranda again. 

* * *

“I’m starving,” Andy exclaimed, falling back onto the bed. Miranda chuckled. 

“Of course you are,” she joked. “I’ll call for room service.”

“Thanks.” 

Maybe this was really how it was going to be. But lying there, staring at a ceiling that was most likely worth more than her annual salary, with a beautiful woman on the phone and expensive, expensive food on the way, Andy found that she didn’t really mind. 

“Something to drink?” Miranda asked, looking through the bar in the room. 

“Wine,” Andy requested, stealing a glance at Miranda’s bare legs in her skimpy negligee. God, she was lovely. Andy sat up as Miranda came over, pulling a bra strap up. 

“Thank you,” she said, grabbing a glass and taking a sip. 

“There’s a partner’s event this week,” Andy blurted out. Miranda raised an eyebrow. 

“And?” Miranda prompted, a devilish grin on her face. 

Andy glared at her. 

“You leave next Friday?” 

Miranda nodded. 

“The event’s this Saturday.” 

Miranda nodded again. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay.” 

They sat in silence, staring off through the balcony to the dark L.A. night. (Honestly, it was pretty bright. L.A. almost never slept.) 

“The city that never sleeps,” Miranda mused. Andy glanced at her. 

“I’m pretty sure that’s New York,” Andy pointed out, pouring herself more wine. 

“Less press here,” Miranda said. 

Andy snorted. 

“Less press who care about me here,” Miranda repeated. Andy reached out and grabbed her hand, looking Miranda in the eye. 

“You’re free,” Andy said. 

They fell back into a comfortable silence, with Andy holding on Miranda’s hand as they drank their wine. 

“Why’d you leave?” 

Andy frowned. “I’d already told you.” 

“Yes, yes, law school and all that. But you could’ve come back,” Miranda said. She sounded wistful. 

Andy paused. 

“I don’t know,” she replied, quietly. There was a loud knock on the door and Miranda jumped up, immediately grabbing a robe and tying it tightly around her waist. 

Andy heard Miranda speak with the bellboy in the hallway and as she watched Miranda walk back with the tray in her hands, her hair messy, makeup smeared, with a small smile, it hit her. 

Oh fuck. 

Her heart was beating out of her chest.

Oh fuck indeed. 

“Thanks,” Andy said, calmly, as if she hadn’t just been hit with the largest realisation of the century. 

She wolfed down her meal, absolutely intent on getting out of there as fast as she could. Miranda watched her strangely and Andy tried to ignore the feeling of her stare on her. (Andy tried to ignore a many great things about Miranda, but Miranda Priestly was very difficult to ignore.) 

“What’s wrong with you?” Miranda snapped, looking—concerned?—at her. 

“What?” 

“Was it something I said?” 

“God, no, nothing, nothing’s wrong,” Andy replied, frantically. “It’s just late.” 

Miranda looked at her skeptically. 

“Thank you,” Andy said, genuinely, looking Miranda in the eye. Miranda nodded. “I’ve got work tomorrow, so I really do need to go.” 

“Yes, of course. Have my driver take you home—”

“No, it’s okay, I’ll grab an Uber,” Andy said, standing up and getting dressed. “Good night!” she said, rushing out of the room before she could hear Miranda’s reply. 

Once she got in the elevator, she looked at her reflection in the mirror. Jesus. It was obvious what she was doing in that hotel room. She frantically ran her fingers through her hair, desperately trying to comb it, along with fixing as much of her makeup as she could. Smoothing out her blazer, she stared at herself. 

Okay. That’s better. Her phone pinged. 

_ The partner’s event, what time?  _

Fuck. She’d completely forgot she’d invited Miranda. (Of course, that was before her whole epiphany thing, so, who could really blame her?) She didn’t open the text. 

Her phone pinged again. 

_ Don’t die on your way home.  _

Andy chuckled. Leave it to Miranda.

* * *

Andy still hadn’t replied to Miranda’s texts. She was beginning to wonder if she ever would. Fuck it. She’d go to the partner’s dinner with Miranda. Will and Diane would be happy to have a client there anyways. A big one too. 

Six to eleven, come by my office before, Andy typed out. Didn’t die, clearly, she added. There. Okay. That was good and the text sent off with a small whoosh.

She drummed her fingers on the desk as she tried to focus on the pages and pages of corporate information before her. 

Her phone pinged again. That was fast. 

_ Good. Dress code?  _

Andy nearly laughed. Of course that’s what Miranda was thinking about. 

_ Business formal. Don’t come in a gala dress.  _

Andy sighed and sat back, realising that she wasn’t comprehending anything that she was reading. Maybe she should take a vacation. (With Miranda, the annoying voice in her head nagged, and she wanted to shove it into a closet.) 

_ Who ever said it was a gala, Andrea?  _

Andy could almost hear Miranda’s mocking tone. She snickered a little. Jesus. She couldn’t keep on being distracted at work like this. 

_ No one, gotta get back to work!  _

There. That would do it. 

It did. There was no ping afterwards and Andy sat herself in for a long afternoon of reading. Okay, she thought to herself. Okay. 

* * *

She quickly changed in her bathroom, zipping up the dress and checking in the mirror for her makeup. Smoothly retouching her lipstick, she threw back on her blazer, smoothing out the lapels. She looked good. Miranda would look good. 

She was out of the bathroom just as Miranda knocked on her door. Andy thought her heart would beat of her chest. (She felt that a lot around Miranda these days.) 

Miranda was dressed in a simple suit, silky blouse that Andy just wanted to rip off her.

“You look lovely,” Andy said. 

Miranda just hummed. 

“Come on, you can praise me to my bosses,” Andy quipped, leading them out of her office and flickering off the lights. 

“I’m sure Diane doesn’t need my input,” Miranda said. Andy raised an eyebrow. Miranda rolled her eyes. 

“I’m sure you lawyers don’t need my input,” Miranda corrected. Andy smiled. 

“Should’ve added ‘I’ll rephrase’ at the beginning and then we’d be all ready for court,” Andy joked, walking down the hallway to the conference room. Miranda looked at her blankly. 

“Nevermind,” Andy said, opening the door. 

“Will! Diane!” she greeted. “Our favourite client,” she introduced Miranda, and Will held his hand out. 

“I didn’t know you were coming,” Diane exclaimed, pulling Miranda in for a hug. Wow. Maybe they were closer than Andy’d thought. 

“Andrea invited me. I was very impressed by her work with my divorce,” Miranda said. 

“That’s Andy for you! Able to cross into thousands of different areas of law,” Will boasted, handing them both a glass of champagne. 

Miranda smiled at Andy. 

“Yes, certainly.” 

And with that, Diane swept Miranda off and Will pulled Andy back. 

“I’m sure I don’t need to remind you this, but keep her happy, alright?” 

Andy snorted. Happy. Yeah. (She remembered Miranda’s soft gasps and expensive wine.) 

“Hopefully we can get her to bring more of the fashion industry’s business here.” 

Andy nodded. 

“Got it, boss,” she joked, jabbing Will with her elbow. He grinned. 

“What do you think those two are scheming about?” he stage-whispered, gesturing towards Diane and Miranda. 

“God, who knows with those two,” Andy replied, taking a healthy gulp of her glass. Will merely laughed. 

“Go, mingle. God knows you need it,” he encouraged, disappearing to talk to David Lee. Andy nearly burst out into laughter, walking over to Miranda. 

“Excuse me,” she heard Miranda say, stepping away from Diane. 

“Let’s get out of here, shall we?” Andy asked into Miranda’s ear. 

“This is your event, is it not?” 

“They won’t miss me.” 

Miranda pulled out her phone to call her driver. Andy grinned. 

* * *

They were back at Miranda’s hotel room, but this time Andy ignored the flutters of her heart and kissed Miranda hard enough so all her problems would go away. Unfortunately, Miranda was also the reason for most of her problems. (Actually, it was more so that Andy was stupid enough in the first place to even fall for a woman like Miranda.) 

But she found that she’d gotten good at ignoring a lot of things, and this, like all those other things, she ignored. 

Miranda was lovely. Lovely beyond words could describe. 

Andy had spent the entirety of her early career writing. She’d spent the past seven years figuring how to word things properly in the name of the law. 

But she couldn’t, for the absolute life of her, fully inscribe Miranda into the language she had loved and learnt since childhood. 

Lovely. Simply lovely.

Her hands ran through Miranda’s hair. She absentmindedly wondered what conditioner she used. 

“One more than you can afford,” came Miranda’s reply and Andy hadn’t realised she’d spoken out loud. 

“Oh shit, I didn’t mean to say that,” she said, covering her mouth. 

Miranda just laughed. 

Andy just kissed her. 

God, she was fucked. 

Incredibly, incredibly fucked. 

Miranda kissed her back. 

“I leave next week,” Miranda whispered. 

“Pity,” Andy replied, trailing kisses down her neck. 

Pity indeed.

* * *

The next week fell into a routine. Or just about as routine as you could get with Miranda Priestly. Andy would go to work for the day—she had no clue what the hell Miranda did all day, since she was technically on vacation, but Andy would bet good money that she was up to something in L.A.—and then drop by Miranda’s hotel in the evening. She’d never caught her daughter there. (She never wanted to.) 

They’d fuck and then Andy’d stay for dinner, sometimes with a glass of wine. Andy never offered to take Miranda home and Miranda never asked.

Andy felt like she was on Cloud Nine. 

She’d ignore the constant beat of her heart when she’d knock on Miranda’s door and the very, very slight—or so she’d tell herself—butterflies in her stomach. 

Miranda played with Andy’s hair as she laid in Miranda’s lap, staring at the ceiling. 

“I leave tomorrow,” she said. 

“Yeah.” 

They didn’t say anything more. 

They didn’t need to. 

* * *

Andy didn’t see Miranda off at the airport, but she’s sure her daughter did, since she didn’t spot Cassidy on the associates’ floor in the afternoon. 

She didn’t get a text either and she didn’t send one. 

Pity indeed. 

> _ “ ‘Cause it's all in the hands of a bitter, bitter man _
> 
> _ Say goodbye to the world you thought you lived in _
> 
> _ Take a bow, play the part of a lonely, lonely heart _
> 
> _ Say goodbye to the world you thought you lived in _
> 
> _ To the world you thought you lived in.”  _ —Mika, “In Any Other World” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about that chapter slip up! This should be the right one now, haha. Hope you enjoyed and let me know what you think! I love reading all your comments <3


	7. i don't wanna know who i am without you

_Three weeks later._

“Andy, Diane is asking for you in her office,” Antia called into her office as Andy rushed around, grabbing her bag and coat. 

“Can it wait? I’m out to meet a client in half an hour,” Andy asked, almost out the door. 

“Oh Andrea,” Diane said, nearly bumping into her in the hallway. “I was just looking to see you.”

“I’m just about to meet Mr. Davis about his retainer agreement, I can speak afterwards?” Andy said, already making her way to the elevators. 

“No need,” Diane said. “I’ll ride down with you.” 

Andy nodded and fished her keys out of her bag. 

“ _Conde Nast_ is being sued for fifty-eight million,” Diane said. Andy stopped in her tracks. 

“What?”

“Confidentiality breach,” Diane added. “Nigel Kipling has asked for you personally to deal with the case.” 

“Fifty-eight million?” 

Diane nodded. 

“I’ve booked you a flight for tomorrow. Make this go away, Andy,” Diane warned, just as the elevator doors dinged and the name partner was well on her way back to her office. 

Andy clutched her keys as she stared at her reflection. 

Jesus. Fifty-six million? What in the world of _fuck_ had Nigel done? (Then again, she wasn’t even sure if it was Nigel himself that was being sued, or just the company. Then again, it was basically the same thing at this point.) 

She scrambled to her car, mentally running through her head what she needed to wrap up before leaving for New York. 

Hand off the Bicana Price trial. 

Reorganize the team for the Clarkson depositions. 

Everything else she could hand off to the associates, right? Right. 

She started the car. Fifty-six million? 

* * *

Andy landed in New York, the pungent air immediately hitting her. Ah. Nothing but the whiff of the absolutely fresh, clean city breath. She glanced for a sign with her name on it, finding a very familiar face holding it up. 

“Cassidy?” Andy asked. “I thought you were still in the L.A. branch?” 

“Just transferred last week,” the girl explained. Huh. Interesting. 

“How’s your mother?” Andy asked, very, very casually. 

“Good. Busy as always,” Cassidy replied. “This way.” 

“Thanks,” Andy said, sliding into the car as the young girl clutched her phone. Andy nearly chuckled. 

“Just because I’m a partner doesn’t mean you need to be all strung up around me,” Andy said, pulling out her notes on the lawsuit. 

“Just professional,” Cassidy supplied, glancing at Andy’s papers. Well. She might as well help Andy with some work while she was here. 

“Here, read these and highlight any portions that contain anything about bankruptcy,” Andy ordered, handing Cassidy a stack of papers. The girl beamed. 

“Thank you!” 

Ah. So very much unlike her mother. 

They rode in silence, with only the sound of the flipping of pages before Cassidy set aside the entire stack within ten minutes. Andy looked at the girl with raised eyebrows. 

“Thank you,” she said, collecting the documents. “Come on, what are you currently working on?” 

“The DeMoins divorce,” Cassidy replied, diligently grabbing her luggage. 

“Have my assistant bring my things to the hotel. I’m taking you on for this lawsuit. You can work with the paralegals,” Andy said, walking up to the building. 

“Really?” 

Andy chuckled. 

“Really. Come on.” 

Andy led the young girl upstairs, meeting in quickly with Julius before and heading for her office. 

It was filled with paralegals and associates, the _Conde Nast_ legal team. 

“Hello, everyone,” she greeted, walking through the crowd to her desk. Associates immediately whipped out pens and notebooks. Andy grinned to herself as she shook hands with the other senior attorney. Oh, was it nice being at the top. 

“We’ve got a big client with a big caseload,” she began, feeling a rush. 

New York City, welcome back Andrea Sachs. 

* * *

“Hey Nigel, I’m officially on your case now and in New York. Give me a call when you get this,” she said, leaving a voicemail. Andy reviewed the discovery the plaintiff had provided, sifting through boxes and boxes of evidence. 

Jesus Christ. Maybe Nigel was slightly screwed. 

As she turned off her phone, one number glared up at her. Andy’s finger hovered. 

Well. She was in the city. 

Fuck it. (Andy seemed to act like this a lot with Miranda. You did need that kind of attitude with Miranda Priestly, though.) 

She dialled the number only to reach voicemail. Andy wasn’t surprised. 

“Hey Miranda, I’m in town for around two weeks. Want to grab a drink tonight? I’ll stop by. Call me when you get this,” Andy said. 

Okay. That seemed alright. Okay. 

She went back to her stacks of boxes when her phone pinged. 

_Ten tonight._

Andy grinned. 

Alright. Okay. 

* * *

“Thanks,” Andy said, leaving a good review for her Uber and rushing out to the _Elias-Clarke_ building. She headed for reception, giving her name. Like last time, there was a badge for her, but unlike last time, she wasn’t surprised by it. 

She rode up the elevators with her heart pounding in her head and her hand clutching her bag. 

Jesus. She hadn’t seen Miranda in nearly a month. (She tried to forget about the woman’s scent and lips but like last time, she failed miserably.) 

Andy strode down the long, sleek hallways, finding most of the offices empty until she reached the end, where everything was dark except for a bright light from Miranda’s office. 

“Hey stranger,” Andy said, leaning in the doorway. Miranda already had two glasses poured out. 

“Long time no see,” Miranda said, gesturing for Andy to take a seat. Andy fell into the chair, slouching like a teenager. Miranda glared at her. Andy immediately sat up. 

“Okay, okay,” she said, holding her hands up in surrender. 

“I heard you were on the _Conde Nast_ lawsuit,” Miranda said casually, closing her laptop and taking a sip of her wine. 

“And you still made me call first?” Andy joked, grabbing a glass. 

Miranda smiled. 

God. Andy missed that smile. 

“You’re on my home ground now,” Miranda said lightly. Andy laughed. That she was. 

“Yes, always to the rescue of the big companies,” Andy joked, if only slightly. 

“Long day?” Miranda asked. 

“When is it not?” Andy replied dryly. “You know, sometimes I wonder if I’m on the right side of things.” 

Miranda looked at her. 

“I’ve spent nearly a decade of my life defending, what, some of the worst scum of the earth?” 

“The justice system protects all,” Miranda merely said. Andy laughed darkly. 

“Yeah, it sure does.” 

“You need to be drunker for this,” Miranda said in reply, refilling Andy’s bottle. 

“Truer words never spoken,” Andy laughed, carefully taking Miranda in. The gold jewelry really brought out eyes, she realised. Fuck. Why did she always have to go in over her head with these things? 

“Nearly a whole month,” Miranda mused. 

“Yup,” Andy replied, popping the “p”. Fuck it.

She reached across the desk and pulled Miranda in for a kiss by the lapels of her blazer. Andy nearly moaned into her mouth. How in the world of hell did she go three whole weeks without this? 

Miranda tasted of the alcohol they were drinking, the remnants of the day and something very, very minty. 

“You’re lovely,” Andy whispered against Miranda’s mouth. The woman just hummed, kissing her back. 

“Are you at the Sheraton again?” Miranda asked, breathlessly. 

“Mhm,” Andy replied, kissing Miranda once again. God. She wanted to do this everyday. 

“I’m here for two weeks,” Andy repeated. Miranda nodded and held her hand, leading her towards the elevators. 

* * *

The minute Andy unlocked her door, Miranda pushed her against the wall, kissing her harshly. Miranda nearly tore at her shirt, quickly revealing Andy’s bra. 

“Careful, I’m not made of money,” Andy teased, taking off her blouse as Miranda kissed at her neck. 

“Not disposable,” she added, moaning as Miranda reached her stomach, her hand teasing at Andy’s pant line. 

They barely made it to the bed. 

* * *

“You’re not disposable,” Miranda said suddenly, laying on the bed as Andy sifted through the hotel fridge for water. 

“I know,” Andy said calmly, walking back towards Miranda and leaning in to kiss her. 

“Good,” was all Miranda said. 

* * *

Andy woke to her blaring alarm, the sun shining through her window, and Miranda’s hair in her face. 

Wait. What? 

Miranda was still here? What the fuck? 

Andy slowly turned over, finding Miranda fast asleep beside her, breathing lightly. She looked beautiful with the sun on her. Andy gently leaned over, kissing Miranda on the forehead before getting up and dressed. 

She checked the time. Okay. She had around an hour. Hurrying to the bathroom, she quickly washed her face–thank God she took off her makeup last night–and started to rift through her luggage for a change of clothes. 

She began applying her makeup before she felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist. 

“Jesus, Miranda!” Andy exclaimed, nearly dropping her foundation. Miranda chuckled. 

“Good morning,” she said, gently placing a kiss to Andy’s neck.

“Good morning,” Andy replied. “I wish I could stay longer, but I really need to be in the office today.” 

Miranda nodded. “I called for breakfast.” 

Andy smiled at her in the mirror. Miranda looked sweet—if that could be a word about Miranda Priestly—in the morning. 

“Thanks.” 

Miranda just kissed her. 

* * *

Andy hurried into work that day with the memory of Miranda’s lips all over her and Miranda’s perfume in her bed. 

“Andy, you’ve got a call from Mr. Kipling,” Janice greeted, as Andy rushed in. 

“Thanks,” she said, hanging up her coat and bag. There were more boxes in her office. 

“Plaintiff sent more discovery?” she asked Janice. Her assistant nodded. Jesus. (And she thought she was finished yesterday.) 

Andy picked up the phone, sitting back in her seat. 

“Hey Nigel,” she said happily. Clearly Nigel could hear it.

“Someone sounds like they had a good morning,” he commented slyly. Andy just smiled. 

“Yup. Happy lawyer makes for a better case,” she said, looking at the documents placed on her desk by an associates and mouthing to them “thank you”. 

“How the hell did you even get entangled with this?” she asked, carefully reading the file. “Fifty-eight million, Christ.” 

Nigel laughed darkly. 

She looked up at a knock on the door. She missed everything Nigel was saying. 

“You left this,” Miranda said, holding out files Andy had, indeed, left in her hotel room. 

“You didn’t need to,” Andy said. “But thank you.” 

Miranda smiled. “No need.” 

“You just wanted to see me, didn’t you?” 

“I’ll stop by tonight,” Miranda said, in lieu of an answer. 

“Andy? Am I boring you?” Nigel’s voice rang through the phone. 

Miranda looked startled. 

“No, no,” Andy replied. “Do go on.” 

By the time Andy looked up, Miranda was gone and she was left with the slightest whiff of her perfume. 

* * *

“Hello,” Miranda greeted as Andy frantically typed out a brief. She held up a finger; she had a deadline to meet. 

Andy could feel Miranda’s careful stare on her. Her fingers ran over the keyboard, quickly finishing up the document. After a few minutes, she sent it off to the court. 

“Okay, done,” she said, shutting her laptop. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be, it’s nice to watch you work,” Miranda said, holding out a box of Chinese takeout. 

Andy gasped dramatically, covering her mouth. 

“You didn’t.” 

Miranda just smirked. 

“You bought that yourself?” Andy asked, shocked. Miranda chuckled. 

“No, my assistant did,” she replied, dropping the food on her desk. “I’d assumed you hadn’t eaten. Unless you haven’t?” she trailed off hesitantly. 

“No, I haven’t had dinner yet, thank you,” Andy said, opening it and sighed in the scent of Chinese takeout. “You sure you don’t want to join me?” Andy joked, taking out the chopsticks. 

Miranda shook her head. “I already ate, but thank you.”

Andy dove in, nearly shoving it into her mouth. Jesus Christ, she’d completely forgotten how late it was. 

“You’re going to work yourself to death,” Miranda said, slightly amused. 

“Says you,” Andy shot back. 

“Touche.” 

“Come back to my place tonight,” Miranda offered, as Andy stuffed her face. Andy swallowed. 

“Okay,” she replied calmly as if her stomach hadn’t just been filled with butterflies. She quickly finished her meal.

“Thanks again,” she said, packing up her things. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” 

Miranda just smiled and called her driver. 

* * *

It had been just over a decade since Andy had stepped foot into Miranda’s house and it… looked basically the same. There had to have been some changes, but from Andy’s memories, it was more or less the same colour palette with a couple changes of flowers, but there was a different feeling of sorts. 

It was clear that Miranda was happy here. 

Andy gently kissed her, taking her coat off and leaving her bag at the door. 

“Give me a tour,” she whispered jokingly. “Show me around, Ms Priestly.” 

Miranda snorted and just walked up the stairs, leaving Andy to jog up after her. 

* * *

Andy slowly unzipped Miranda’s dress, sliding the smooth material off her shoulders before Miranda suddenly stopped her. Andy tensed. 

“It’s okay,” she whispered. Miranda just pushed her onto the bed, her dress still half on. 

Andy just kissed her, accidentally pulling Miranda’s dress down. She stopped, staring at Miranda’s waist. 

“What’s wrong?” Miranda asked, before catching Andy’s glaze. She quickly covered back up. 

“Miranda,” Andy began slowly. 

“It’s nothing. From the gym yesterday.” 

Andy narrowed her eyes. 

“It wasn’t there yesterday,” Andy said pointedly, sitting up. Oh fuck. It just clicked. 

“What the hell is he still doing to you?” she said, her voice raising. 

“Andrea, it’s okay,” Miranda coaxed. 

“Miranda, it isn’t.” 

“It won’t happen again,” Miranda said firmly. Andy felt like throwing up. She gagged on her breath. 

“Jesus, Miranda.” 

“Let me deal with it, Andrea,” she said, against Andy’s lips. “It’s my business.” 

“Okay,” Andy whispered back, undressing Miranda once more. “Don’t worry. You’re beautiful.” 

Miranda kissed her. 

The purple on her waist never left her mind. 

* * *

Andy woke up for the second day in a row with Miranda Priestly in her bed. Or more accurately, she woke up in Miranda’s bed today. She could hear the sink running in the bathroom and she quietly padded her way through the room. 

“Good morning,” she said, leaning against the doorway as she watched Miranda wash her face in the mirror. 

“Morning,” Miranda replied. Andy snuck up behind her, wrapping her arms around her waist, careful about Miranda’s bruise, giving her a kiss on the shoulder as she looked at their reflection. 

“We make quite a pair, don’t we?” she laughed, looking at her bedhead and Miranda’s carefully combed hair. 

“We do,” Miranda simply said. Andy could feel her heart burst.

“I’ll make breakfast,” she said. 

“Thank you,” Miranda said. Andy kissed Miranda once more. 

* * *

“Janice, can you get the court form for a restraining order?” 

“Of course, Andy,” Janice replied through the intercom. 

“Thanks.” 

Andy went back to her multiple briefs on the _Conde Nast_ lawsuit. Jesus, there were a lot.

“Here, Andy,” Janice said, slipping a sheet of paper on Andy’s desk. 

“Thank you, Janice.” Her assistant nodded. 

She quickly read through the form, filling in the necessary spaces. Okay. Good. She placed it into her “out” file. 

Okay. Good. 

Good. 

> _“For I'm so scared of losing you_
> 
> _And I don't know what I can do about it_
> 
> _About it_
> 
> _So tell me how long, love, before you go_
> 
> _And leave me here on my own_
> 
> _I know that I don't wanna know_
> 
> _Who I am without you.”_ —Bear’s Den, “Agape”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New update! I hope you enjoyed and let me know what you thought. Stay safe everyone.


	8. sick of losing soulmates

“Did anyone tell you that you looked hot as all hell today,” Andy whispered into Miranda’s ear as she started to remove Miranda’s crisp, button-down shirt. 

“No,” Miranda said, gasping slightly. “No one would dare.” 

“Well,” Andrea started, kissing Miranda. “I dare.” 

Miranda glared at her. 

“God, your lines are awful,” she complained. Andy just grinned. 

“Admit it. You love them,” Andy whispered. Miranda shook her head. Andy’s hand teased at Miranda’s underwear. “I’ll make you like them.” 

Miranda just groaned.

* * *

Andrea spent the next week in Miranda’s bed. Or Miranda in her hotel room bed. Or Miranda in her office. Or Andy in her office. Miranda was everywhere and Andy was flying on a high. 

_Conde Nast‘s_ lawsuit was going incredibly well. (Almost too well. Andy didn’t quite want to leave New York yet.) 

Andy’s phone pinged. 

_I’ll drop by the office at eight. I’m picking up dinner._

Andy smiled. It was going well. (She sure as hell wasn’t sure what it was, but she was going to go with it.) 

_I’ll be waiting ;)_

Andy almost giggled at her text. Miranda was going to murder her. 

_An emoticon? Really?_

She felt like clutching her phone to her chest like a teenage girl. 

_Yup._

Setting her phone aside, she went back to the deposition transcripts of the plaintiff. It was going well. 

Everything was going well. (The colour of Miranda’s bruise never left Andy’s memory.) 

* * *

“Hey,” Miranda said, knocking gently on Andy’s door and holding up what Andy presumed was their dinner. 

“Hey, come in,” Andy said, taking off her glasses. Miranda tilted her head. 

“When’d you start wearing those?” 

“Glasses?” 

“Yes,” Miranda nearly rolled her eyes. Andy could almost hear the “obviously” afterwards. 

“A few years ago. Too much time reading and in front of screens,” she explained, grabbing the food from Miranda. “I’m starving.” 

“Hard at work, I presume?” Miranda jested, sitting down. 

“God, you don’t know how boring contract law is,” Andy complained, opening up the package. God, that smelled heavenly. “Thank you.” 

Miranda just nodded. They ate silently, with Andy nearly wolfing down her meal. 

“So, when were you going to tell me that you placed a restraining order on my ex-husband?” 

Andy froze. She dropped her fork. Fuck. Miranda raised an eyebrow. 

Andy looked at Miranda. She couldn’t gauge an expression. Jesus, that woman’s poker face was good. 

“Well?” 

Clearly, Andy’s was not. She cleared her throat. 

“He was hurting you,” she said, matter-of-factly. Miranda glared at her. 

“I said to leave it alone.” 

Andy raised an eyebrow. “You thought I’d listen to that?”

“I thought you would respect my wishes!” Miranda hissed. 

“You can drop it, it is your restraining order,” Andy said calmly. “You should also be speaking to the District Attorney.”

“It isn’t your life, Andrea.” 

Ouch. Andy felt as though something had just stabbed her in the chest. That hurt more than it’d expected to. (What the hell was this anyways?) 

“Why the hell is he still approaching you anyways?” Andy asked, her calm starting to slip. Miranda paused. 

“It isn’t your business,” she finally said.

“It damn well is if he’s abusing you,” Andy exclaimed frankly. Miranda didn’t say anything. 

“It’s my business,” Miranda quietly repeated. She picked up her bag and started to get up. 

“Miranda, wait—” 

“Stay out of it,” she said sharply and left in a flurry of expensive clothes. 

“Miranda—”

Fuck. 

_Fuck._

* * *

Andy headed back to her hotel room, collapsing into bed and passing out almost immediately. She woke up the next morning clearly lacking Miranda beside her and ignored it as much as she could. 

Hurrying off to work, Andy ran through her mental to do list. 

Finish depositions. 

Call new witnesses. 

Forget Miranda. 

Ignore Miranda. 

Fill in Will and Diane with the _Conde Nast_ lawsuit. 

Update Nigel on his lawsuit. 

Be briefed by the associates on the progress of the lawsuit. 

Lawsuit, lawsuit, Miranda, lawsuit. 

Back and forth, back and forth.

Contract law, lawsuit, the complexities of New York confidentiality legislation, Miranda. 

Miranda, Miranda, lawsuit. 

Fuck. 

(Thank God she was heading back to L.A. soon.)

* * *

“Congratulations!” Andy exclaimed, popping the champagne as everyone in the conference cheered. The lawsuit had been dropped completely and _Conde Nast_ didn’t even have to settle, which was what Andy had expected. 

“All thanks to you,” Nigel said, raising his glass. “Andy Sachs!” he cheered. 

“Andy Sachs!” everyone called as they lifted their glasses. Andy blushed. 

“Thank you, thank you,” she called. “Thank you to all the hard working associates and paralegals on this case. This is as much of a win it is for me as it is for you.” 

Andy smiled and raised her glass again, clinking it with Nigel’s. 

“Nicely done, Six,” he said, grinning. 

“You better be paying up,” she joked. “Hundreds of billable hours.” 

Nigel just laughed. 

“Whatever you ask, Sachs,” he shot back, downing his drink. Andy hung back, watching the room, nearly breathing a sigh of relief. 

Finally. She was done. She had done well by her client. Extremely well. This would score her some points with the partners back home for sure. Oh, yeah. Needed to call Will and Diane. She mentally put that on her to do list as well. 

Her two weeks were up. 

She’d be leaving the next day. Andy stared out the window. 

Miranda hadn’t called and Andy hadn’t either. 

She guessed this was it. 

Out with a whimper, not a bang. Andy finished her drink in one gulp. 

* * *

Andy had cleaned everything out of the New York office, replacing it to as it was before, along with thanking the associates she’d worked with and Julius before heading back to her hotel. 

She fell back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. 

(Just a few days ago, Miranda was in her bed.)

Just a few days ago, her lips were on Miranda’s and she was making breakfast in Miranda’s house and Miranda was quietly puttering away in her bathroom as Andy woke—

She swallowed a sob. 

Jesus Christ. 

Fuck. 

She quickly brushed at her cheeks. 

Get it together, Sachs. 

She methodically packed, cleaning up her clothes around the hotel room, until she got to the bathroom. 

There, right behind the door, on the towel rack was a black lacy bra. It glared at Andy. 

Fuck. 

She left it there. 

Miranda was staying in New York, she resolutely decided. Miranda was New York. Andy was going home. (Where Miranda was not.) 

She stared at herself in the mirror. Her makeup was running. God. Andy took a deep breath. 

It all came tumbling down from there. 

The sobs came slowly as the tears came quickly. Leaning against the counter in the bathroom, she slowly relaxed, taking deep breaths and tried to forget Miranda’s perfume and Miranda’s mouth and Miranda’s hair in her bed and Miranda’s soft voice and—

Quietly, she let it all out, all at once, the bra in the corner glaring at her accusingly in the mirror. 

Jesus, she was a mess. 

(You didn’t play with Miranda Priestly, that was for sure.) 

_Stay out of it._

The words blared in Andy’s head. _Stay out of it._

But she couldn’t—wouldn’t—forget the bruise on Miranda’s waist and the sadness in her eyes whenever Stephen was brought up. 

Staring at herself, she quickly wiped off her makeup, washing her face, and straightened her blazer. Okay. Much better. More tired, but much better. 

She took a sip of water before packing up the rest of her things. Her flight was in two hours. 

She paced around the room, checking for anything she may have missed. She left the bra on the towel rack. 

_Knock, knock._

It rang through the room and Andy was still checking inside the desk. 

“Just one minute!” 

(She had no idea who the hell it could be but she also found that she didn’t really care.) 

“Hey, I leave in two hours—” she stared. 

What the _fuck_. 

“Miranda?” 

Miranda nodded. Andy felt like crying all over again. Pull yourself together, Sachs, she yelled at herself mentally. Get your shit together! 

“Andrea,” Miranda said. “May I come in?” 

Andy wanted to glare at her. She wanted to shut the door in her face. The exhaustion rushed through her. She widened the door. 

Miranda looked at her gratefully and stepped through. 

“Miranda,” Andy began quietly. “What the hell are you doing here.” 

Miranda looked around the room as if she didn’t recognize it. Maybe she didn’t. (They did little more than fuck in here.) 

“I owe you an explanation,” she said plainly. Andy raised an eyebrow. 

“Just one?” 

Miranda sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. Andy could almost see her undressed underneath the covers. 

“A few,” Miranda clarified. “And an apology.”

Andy nodded. 

“Okay,” she said flatly. “I’m listening.” 

“I needed Stephen for my career. He had control with the Board and I needed him on my side,” Miranda started, completely monotone. Andy watched her carefully. “He would only hit me if he was mad. He wasn’t mad often.” 

Andy felt like throwing up. Miranda Priestly wasn’t meant to be controlled by anyone. 

“What about the other night?” Andy asked, slightly tentatively. 

“He’d heard that I was seeing someone else.” 

The words punched Andy in the stomach. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall. Oh fuck. 

“I denied it, of course,” Miranda said, waving it away as if she hadn’t just dropped a bombshell into Andy’s lap. 

“I—” Andy began. Miranda looked at her. 

“Do not,” Miranda said harshly. “Do not, think that it was your fault, Andrea.” 

Andy gulped. 

“Don’t you dare.” 

“Okay.” 

Miranda didn’t look satisfied.

“Don’t you ever think I’ve regretted this.” 

God. Past tense. 

“I hadn’t,” Andy replied. “I hadn’t.” 

They looked at each other. 

“Don’t let me leave,” Andy whispered. “Don’t let me leave again.” 

“Andrea—” 

“I’m sorry for not telling you about the restraining order,” Andy began. “But don’t let me leave.” 

She swallowed, unable to meet Miranda’s eyes. 

“Please,” Miranda whispered, grabbing Andy’s hand. “Stay.” 

Andy nearly cried. 

“ _Stay_.” 

Andy, very slowly, leaned in to kiss Miranda, softly, gently, as if she never had before. God. How’d she go months without this? She barely made a couple days. 

She kissed her again, and again, and again, until they were both breathless and Miranda’s lipstick was all over Andy’s mouth. 

Miranda tasted like stale gum, nervous ticks, and coming home. Andy never wanted to stop kissing her. She slowly trailed down Miranda’s neck, holding onto her gently. 

“I still think you should let me speak to the District Attorney,” Andy said against Miranda’s lips. She just smiled.

Miranda moaned, urging Andy further. She carefully pulled off Miranda’s shirt, careful around her waist, and pushed her onto the bed. 

“You’re beautiful,” she whispered between kisses. “Absolutely beautiful.” 

“God, Andrea,” Miranda gasped. Andy just kissed her. 

And kissed her, and kissed her, and kissed her. 

* * *

“I’ve got a flight to catch,” Andy said, raising her head from Miranda’s lap. She raised an eyebrow. 

“I thought I wasn’t letting you leave,” she half-joked. Andy smiled, reaching up to cup her face. 

“I’m going to sort out my affairs there. We’ll figure it out,” she said confidently. She half expected Miranda to protest. 

“Okay,” she said. “We’ll figure it out.” 

“Damn right,” Andy said, kissing her. “Come on, you’re driving me to the airport.” 

Miranda just laughed. 

“I’ll call you once I land,” Andy said as they reached the entrance. Miranda squeezed her arm. 

Andy pulled her in for one last quick kiss, not caring that they were in front of dozens of strangers or that she was kissing Miranda Priestly, only remembering the softness of Miranda’s lips and the scent of her perfume. 

“Andrea!” Miranda exclaimed, blushing. She was beautiful when she blushed. Andy grinned. She was sure her smile was obnoxiously wide. She also didn’t care. 

“I’ll call you!” she said, turning and waving. 

“I love you,” Miranda said, holding up her hand elegantly enough to rival the Queen of England. 

What— 

Andy was shuffled into boarding before she could reply. 

Her heart was beating out of her chest. 

Her smile had to be wider than ever. 

She clutched her ticket to her chest, hugging it. 

She beamed.

> _“ ‘Cause I’m sick of losing soulmates_
> 
> _So where do we begin?_
> 
> _I can finally see you’re as fucked up as me_
> 
> _So how do we win?”_ —dodie, “Sick of Losing Soulmates 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're barreling towards the end here! I'm looking to start another project soon; let me know if you have any ideas!


	9. we all need somebody to stay

_ One month later.  _

“Hey Miranda,” Andy said, holding her phone between her ear and shoulder. 

“No, that needs to go to Diane,” she said to her assistant, who nodded. 

“Are you busy?” Miranda asked. Andy could hear the mirth in her tone. 

“No, no,” she began, before she took a good look around her. Piles and piles of papers covered her desk, along with a good stack of law books on the corner that were laid out. “Actually, that’s a lie.” 

Miranda just laughed. God, she wished she was in New York right now. 

“I’ll let you keep at it. I’ll call you back,” Miranda said, chuckling. Andy breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Thank you,” she said honestly. “No, for the last time, we’re not citing the Constitution on this one!” she yelled at an associate who rightfully cowered. 

“Partner Andrea Sachs,” Miranda mused over the line. Andy laughed. 

“Sometimes it’s a pain in the ass,” she replied, signing the stack of papers Antia just handed her. “I’m really sorry, but I’ve got to go now.” 

“I’ll call you later.”

Andy just smiled. 

* * *

“Hey,” Andy said, picking up the phone. 

“Good evening,” Miranda sighed into the line. Andy gave a small laugh. 

“Long day?” 

“You could say.” 

Suddenly, Andy wished she had her phone from her childhood with the cord simply so she could twirl her finger around it. 

“How are you?” she asked simply. She could almost see Miranda’s smile. 

“Not too bad. My employees were competent today,” Miranda said. Andy imagined her in her office, her chair turned to the window, watching the wondrous view of the city. 

“Wish I could say the same of mine,” Andy joked. Miranda laughed. 

“My, my, how the tables have turned.” 

All Andy could see was Miranda’s laugh. 

“I miss you,” she said, calmly. She picked up a pen from her desk and started playing with it, fiddling it in her hand. 

Miranda was quiet. 

“Miranda?” 

“I’m here.” 

“I can’t take this,” Andy suddenly said. Miranda was silent. “This long distance thing.” 

“I miss you too,” Miranda said, almost in a whisper. 

“I have a life here,” Andy started. 

“I have a life here too,” Miranda replied. Andy sighed. 

“So we’re at an impasse.” 

“Yes,” Miranda said shortly. 

“I—I’ve got some work to quickly finish up,” Andy said. 

“Yes, of course.” 

“Good night, Miranda.” 

“Good night, Andrea.” 

Andy clutched her phone. God. They just kept on fucking up, didn’t they? (She turned back to her six hundred page brief to ignore it. Miranda was on her mind the entire time.)

* * *

She didn’t call Miranda in the next few days and Miranda didn’t call her. It was partly work and it was partly Miranda and it was partly the fact that they lived on the opposite ends of the country and if she’d just been thinking correctly a month ago she would’ve ended it— 

Andy shook her head, shaking herself out of it. 

No. 

She picked up her phone and dialled the number she’d long known by memory. 

It went to voicemail.

“Hey Miranda, I told you we were going to figure it out, so we’re going to figure it out. Call me back,” she said, rushing it all out. 

Okay. 

Okay. That’s what they were going to do. 

* * *

Her phone rang the next day when she was in the middle of a meeting, shrill and interrupting the conservation of a very, very important client. Andy glanced at the caller I.D. 

Fuck. 

“I’m so sorry, please excuse me,” she said, rushing out of the conference room. Will looked at her strangely. 

“Miranda?” 

“Hello, Andrea,” Miranda said. 

“I’m in the middle of a meeting right now, can it wait?” 

“I’m in L.A. right now,” Miranda said. Andy nearly gasped. 

“What?” 

“I’ll drop by your office at eight,” she said succinctly. Andy gaped. 

“How—” 

“Plane, Andrea,” Miranda said, teasing her. Will was gesturing at her frantically through the window. Andy winced. 

“Okay,” she just said. 

“Get back to work,” Miranda said, sternly. Andy just laughed. 

“Yes ma’am,” she joked and hurried back into the conference room, putting her phone on silent. 

She must’ve had the largest smile on her face because Will was looking at her as if she had sprouted two heads. 

Andy didn’t care. 

Miranda was here.

* * *

Andy glanced up at a knock on her door, looking away from her memo. She immediately smiled. 

“Hey stranger,” she greeted. 

“Long time no see,” Miranda replied, leaning against her doorframe. 

“I don’t suppose it would be appropriate for me to kiss you here, would it?” Andy asked. 

“No, it wouldn’t,” Miranda said, looking at her intently. 

“Then let’s get out of here,” Andy declared, shutting her laptop and packing up her things. Miranda smirked. 

They headed down to the elevators together. Andy discreetly slid her hand into Miranda’s, who gave a small gasp. 

“Don’t worry, everyone is already gone,” Andy whispered into Miranda’s ear. God, she’d missed this woman. Miranda’s perfume waved all over her. 

“I suppose it wouldn’t matter if you kissed me then,” Miranda shot back. Andy just grinned. 

“I guess it wouldn’t.” 

And Andy pulled Miranda in, tilting her head and kissed her slowly, gently, carefully memorizing every bit of Miranda she’d never forgotten in the first place. She tasted like a bit of minty gum, some kind of sweet treat, and coming home. Miranda sighed against her lips. 

“Satisfied?” Andy teased. 

Miranda was slightly breathless. 

“Absolutely.”

“Let’s go,” Andy said, taking Miranda’s hand and pulling her into the elevator, kissing her gently. “Let me take you home.” 

“I’ve never seen your house before,” Miranda mused as they rode the elevator. Andy looked at her. 

“You haven’t?”

Miranda shook her head. 

She thought about it for a second. Huh. Miranda was right. 

“You didn’t call your driver, did you?” Andy asked. 

“No, do you need me to?” Miranda replied. Andy shook her head. 

“Nope, since we’re at my car right now,” Andy proclaimed, opening the door dramatically. Miranda just grinned. 

“If I die today, you’re not in my will,” Miranda quipped. 

Andy just laughed and held her hand all the way home. 

* * *

“Is it a bad thing that I don’t care much about your house right now?” Miranda asked breathily as Andy pushed her against the wall, laying kisses down her neck. 

“No,” Andy said, slowly making her way down Miranda’s body. “I don’t care much for it either right now.” 

Miranda moaned in response. 

“God, how have I gone a month without this?” Andy asked. 

“You’re asking me?” Miranda replied. Andy rolled her eyes. 

“That,” she said between kisses. “Was rhetorical.”

“Jesus Christ,” Miranda gasped as Andy’s hand slipped into her pants. 

“My name is Andrea Sachs,” Andy said, jokingly. Miranda glared at her. Or as much as she could when Andy’s hands were in her underwear. 

“Lovely,” Andy murmured, holding Miranda up. “Just lovely.” 

“You’re richer than I’d thought,” Miranda joked, glancing around Andy’s room. Andy just hummed. “I suppose my millions in legal fees ends up here.” 

“Most of it goes to Will and Diane,” Andy quipped. Miranda rolled her eyes as she played with Andy’s hair. 

“I kept the restraining order,” Miranda said suddenly. Andy looked up at her. 

“Good.” 

Miranda kept on playing with Andy’s hair, running her hands through it. Andy closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling. God, she could live like this. The sun shone through her room as it began to set. It framed Miranda like she was about to walk down a runway. 

“How long are you in L.A. for?” Andy asked. 

“As long as it takes.” 

“Okay.” 

As long as it takes. As long as it takes. 

* * *

Andy woke up the next morning with her bed full of Miranda and the air tinted with her perfume. She wondered what it was. (Probably insanely expensive.) 

She glanced at her clock, realising that she was up around two hours early. Climbing out of bed, she decided she might as well make a nice breakfast. Quickly brushing her teeth and washing her face, she padded her way to the kitchen, starting the coffee maker. 

Glancing around, she’d noticed that she hadn’t made a proper breakfast in ages. She also hadn’t awakened to someone in her bed at home in ages. She also found that she didn’t mind it. 

“Up early?” 

Andy jumped. “Jesus, Miranda. You should wear a bell.” 

Miranda laughed. It was brighter than the morning sun. 

“That will  _ never _ be in fashion,” she proclaimed. Andy smirked. 

“You could make it in fashion.” 

“Absolutely not.” 

Andy just laughed. 

“Do you need help?” Miranda asked as Andy started to make pancakes. 

“You can cook?” 

Miranda rolled her eyes. “Of course I can cook. I’ve raised two daughters.” 

“I’d just assumed your chef did it all,” Andy said, turning around and kissing her. “You forgot to say good morning.” 

“Good morning,” Miranda said, smiling. 

“I can transfer to the New York branch,” Andy said suddenly. Miranda carefully looked at her. 

“Andrea, I’m not asking you to—” 

“New York is where I started. Might be nice to go back,” she said simply. 

“You don’t have to,” Miranda said softly.

“I said before that long distance wasn’t working for me. So I’m going to fix that,” Andy said matter-of-factly.

“I have baggage,” Miranda said. Andy snorted as she poured out the batter. 

“You don’t think I know that?” 

Miranda was silent. 

“I’m a lawyer, Miranda. I’ve read the contracts and the papers. I want you and all that entails,” Andy said, her voice calm. She turned around and took Miranda’s hands. 

“Okay,” Miranda said. Andy nodded. 

“Okay.” She leaned her forehead against Miranda’s. 

“I never said it back, you know, in the airport,” Andy whispered. 

“I know,” Miranda replied.

“I love you,” she said, kissing Miranda as the pancakes baked on the stove and the coffee maker beeped loudly. She tasted a bit like yesterday and a lot like tomorrow. Miranda just kissed her back.

As long as it takes indeed. 

* * *

“You know the New York D.A., right?” Miranda asked as Andy came through the door, dropping her bags at the entrance and stepping out of her heels. 

“Hm?” 

“The New York D.A.,” Miranda repeated, taking Andy’s things into her house. “You really shouldn’t dump your papers everywhere.”

“I’ll leave my things where I want,” Andy shot back. “I need a drink, and yes, I do know him.” 

Miranda grabbed Andy’s hand and pulled her into the kitchen. 

“I don’t know where you keep your alcohol,” she teased as Andy rolled her eyes and reached for the liquor cabinet. “I don’t want to prosecute.”

Andy stopped, trying to register her words. Prosecute? Oh. Right. Stephen. 

“Are—” she paused. “Are you sure?” 

“I don’t think I could take it again,” Miranda whispered as Andy poured out two glasses of wine.

Andy nodded. 

“He could be doing this to other women,” she pointed out. Miranda swallowed. She leaned against the counter with her head in her hands. Andy walked up behind her and wrapped her arms around her waist, setting her chin on Miranda’s shoulder. She smelt like her regular perfume and a little bit like an incredibly long day. 

“Yes. He could be,” she said, resigned. 

“I wish I could take this away from you,” Andy whispered into her ear. Miranda leaned against her. 

“I know.” 

“Let me speak to the N.Y.P.D.,” Andy coaxed, holding onto Miranda tighter. “We’ll see what we can do.”

Miranda nodded. She was warm in Andy’s grasp. 

“Besides,” Andy nudged Miranda playfully. “You’ve got a state of the art P.R. team.” Miranda laughed. 

“Yes, yes, I do.” Andy grinned. 

“It’ll be hard,” she said soberly. 

“Then we’ll do what’s hard,” Miranda replied. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay.”

* * *

The last time Andy boarded a plane it was from New York to L.A. and she was leaving Miranda behind with the promise of tomorrow on the tip of her tongue.

The next time Andy boarded a plane it was from L.A. to New York and Miranda was seated right next to her with the promise of tomorrow in the palms of their hands. 

“We’ll make it work,” Andy said, confident. 

“It’s what we do,” Miranda said. 

“It’s what we do,” Andy repeated. 

Yeah. What people do. 

> _ “You've been fighting the memory all on your own _
> 
> _ Nothing washes, nothing grows _
> 
> _ I know how it feels being by yourself in the rain _
> 
> _ We all need someone to stay _
> 
> _ We all need someone to stay.”  _ —Vancouver Sleep Clinic, “Someone to Stay”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is technically the last chapter in this story; the next is the epilogue. Thank you so much to everyone who stuck by with this story and for all of your wonderful and lovely comments. Let me know what you thought of this one!


	10. would it be okay if i came home to you?

> _“When I don’t know what to say_
> 
> _When I don’t know what to do_
> 
> _There’s a room I need to sit in_
> 
> _Surrounded by my favourite view_
> 
> _And I need a hand to hold_
> 
> _Someone to tell the truth_
> 
> _Would it be okay if I came home to you?”_ —Sigrid, “Home to You”

_Two years later._

“Jesus Christ, it’s warmer than California here,” Andy said, stepping through the door, immediately kicking off her heels. 

“Welcome back,” Miranda greeted, kissing Andy on the cheek. “Sorry I couldn’t pick you up.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Andy said, waving her off. “Though, you could make it up by unpacking my bag for me,” Andy said sweetly, batting her eyelashes. 

“No way,” Miranda laughed.

“Fine,” Andy grumbled. “Don’t I at least get a kiss?” 

“Very well,” Miranda said, rolling her eyes and pulling Andy in. She sighed against Miranda’s lips. 

“It’s good to be home.”

Miranda just smiled. 

* * *

After unpacking—without Miranda’s help, mind you—Andy made her way downstairs to the smell of pasta running through the air.

“What’s on the menu, chef?” Andy asked, walking through the kitchen to wrap her arms around Miranda’s waist, leaning her chin on her shoulder. 

“Nothing, if you don’t get off me,” Miranda teased, chopping up vegetables.

“Is this how you greet me after I get back from a very,” Andy kissed at Miranda’s neck, “very, long trip?” 

“Miss me, dear?” Miranda joked, setting down the knife and turned around, placing her arms over Andy’s shoulders. 

“Was that a question?”

“Only questions for the witness, isn’t that right, counselor?” Miranda jested. Andy laughed. 

“Have you been studying up on the law while I’ve been gone?” 

“Yes, I decided to take a look at what it had over me,” Miranda said jokingly. 

“Nothing, if you find contract law sexy,” Andy shot back, spinning Miranda around. 

“Taken up ballroom dancing lately?” 

“No, but I’d like to try,” Andy whispered into Miranda’s ear, taking her hand. 

“You’re clumsier than an elephant, dear,” Miranda said, turning back to the stove. “Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.” 

“Thanks, what kind of wine?” Andy asked, heading towards the wine cooler. 

“White.” 

“Classy, tonight, aren’t we?” 

Miranda’s twinkling laugh filled the kitchen and Andy couldn’t think of anything lovelier. 

* * *

“How was your trip?” Miranda asked as they sat down, Andy nearly moaning at the delicious-looking meal before her. 

“Long, client-filled, missing you,” Andy said succinctly. Miranda blushed a little. “Diane sends her best wishes.” 

“Doesn’t hurt that _Runway_ is one of her top-billing clients,” Miranda snorted, taking a sip of her wine. 

“ _Runway_ is also one of my top-billing clients,” Andy reminded her. Miranda smirked. 

“And a damn good job you do at it,” Miranda said proudly. Andy laughed. 

“Next time, try not to get into so many contract disputes.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind, dear,” Miranda said. She looked at Andy carefully. “You like the law, right?” 

Andy looked up suddenly, swallowing her food quickly. She frowned. 

“Of course I do,” she said. Yeah. She liked the law. Of course she liked the law. “Why?” 

Miranda avoided Andy’s glaze. 

“It’s just that you wanted to be a writer so long ago. What happened?” Miranda asked softly. 

Andy paused. 

Then she got it. 

Miranda was asking if _she_ was the reason Andy wasn’t a writer. Andy grabbed Miranda’s hand.

“I made my choices a long time ago and I stand by them. I don’t regret anything,” she said confidently. “Don’t you dare think I’ve regretted this.” 

Miranda sat up straighter and held Andy’s hand. 

“Okay. Okay.” 

Andy smiled. 

“And I sure as hell don’t regret being with such a good cook.” 

Miranda laughed. Andy joined her. 

* * *

“Cassidy is joining us for dinner next week,” Miranda called from the bathroom as she got ready for bed. Andy’s lit up. 

“Really? What about Caroline, can we ever entice her to come back?” Andy joked. Miranda chuckled. 

“She might if you ask her.” 

“I’ll do it tomorrow,” Andy said, standing in the doorway of the bathroom, watching Miranda. Jesus, how’d she get so lucky? 

“You’re staring,” Miranda pointed out, meeting her eyes in the mirror. 

“Who can blame me?” Andy smirked. 

“You should never take business trips longer than a week,” Miranda said sternly, walking up to Andy. 

“Talk to my boss and it’s a deal,” Andy joked. Miranda got a glint in her eye. 

“I just might. Diane’s on my phone,” she said, grabbing Andy’s wrist and pulling her to bed. 

Andy just laughed and kissed Miranda gently. She tasted like toothpaste and mints and the slightest, tiniest bit of leftover lipstick and yesterday and tomorrow and more importantly, coming home. 

Miranda kissed her back, pushing her onto the bed. Andy moaned into her mouth. 

“God, I’m exhausted, Miranda,” Andy said. Miranda just grinned. 

“Don’t worry, just lie back,” she teased, her touches falling down Andy’s body. 

Andy just sighed in response. 

* * *

“You know, I was thinking of maybe writing a novel,” Andy mused as they stared at the ceiling. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, I’ve got a few really old drafts,” Andy stated, leaning into Miranda. “We lawyers do have to write a lot, you know.” 

“I do,” Miranda said. 

_I just want you to be happy_ was left unspoken but Andy found that she didn’t need it to be.

“I love you,” she whispered. 

“I love you, too,” Miranda replied, holding onto her tighter. 

She thought of a small velvet box in her bag and Miranda in their bed and in their kitchen and in their home that they shared. 

* * *

Andy woke up to the sun shining through their windows and Miranda’s hair splayed across the pillow and the sheets tangled around them. She smiled, just laying there, watching Miranda’s soft breaths until her eyes fluttered awake. 

“Were you watching me sleep?” she joked, slightly groggy. Andy chuckled. 

“Maybe. I’ve got a beautiful partner,” she said, seriously. Miranda blushed and without her makeup it was clearer than day. Andy thought it was adorable. 

“And I’ve got a creep as one,” Miranda teased. 

“You want to change that?” Andy said, suddenly. She thought about the small box she had tucked in her bag. 

“Change?” Miranda asked with a small frown on her face. 

“I mean, I keep on getting hit on in public and everyone thinks I’m single because I don’t—” 

Miranda smirked, propping herself up with her arm.

“Are you proposing, Andrea?” 

“Uh—” 

Shit. 

Well. Now or never, she guessed. 

“Give me a second.” 

Miranda watched her with a smile as she bound out of bed and dug through her bag until she grabbed the small velvet box. 

“Miranda, I—” Andy began, kneeling on the ground but found that she couldn’t find the words. “God, will you just marry me?” 

Miranda was grinning. 

“God, you idiot, of course,” Miranda exclaimed, leaping from the bed to kiss Andy. 

She had a little bit of morning breath and she still tasted like last night’s toothpaste but she tasted like the future and everything that came with it and Andy’s heart was beating out of her chest and—

“I messed that up, didn’t I?” she joked. 

Miranda just smiled at her. 

“Not at all. Not at all.” 

**FIN.**

> _"That is what we do. That is what people do. They stay alive for each other."_ —Michael Cunningham, _The Hours_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whether you've stuck with me from the beginning, joined me halfway, or just found this as it finished, thank you so much for reading, commenting, and kudoing. I hope you had as great a time reading it as I did writing it. The quote is from the novel _The Hours_ and I would highly recommend it! Stay safe everyone and let me know what you thought. Hopefully, I'll have another story for you in the future.
> 
> Until then,  
> Bonnie
> 
> EDIT (31/05/2020): If you enjoyed this story, please consider checking out [this website](https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/) to support #blacklivesmatter. It outlines ways to support, even from out of America.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked the first chapter of this! I plan to update once a week, every Monday. Let me know your thoughts! (And if you spotted _The Good Wife_ references.) I'm also on tumblr, at [ensorcei](https://ensorcei.tumblr.com/) if you want to pop by and ask some questions! See you next week.


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